


WTNC Prompts

by kris_writes



Category: When The Night Comes (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2019-08-26 04:37:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 192
Words: 86,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16674637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kris_writes/pseuds/kris_writes
Summary: I'm the writer for the visual novel, When The Night Comes, and these are a few prompts I've answered on my blog! You can find us over on whenthenightcomesgame and myself on drdevorakwrites :)





	1. Camellia (Finnzra x Hunter)

_**Flower Prompts: Camellia** \- my destiny is in your hands_

* * *

 

The nights where at Ezra’s are his favourite.

There’s a certain sense of normalcy in it, of being above ground, in a house and not a tomb with the two people that he loves.

He watches from the tiny sofa as they fuss in the kitchen, their hair mussed, clothing askew, and he can’t help but feel content as they laugh together.

He feels like an observer in moments like this, someone outside of this strange little pairing they’ve fallen into. On the outside looking in, but he doesn’t mind.

“Concentrate,” Ezra scolds, nudging them playfully in the ribs, the sound they make in response delightful.

The kettle whistles in that obnoxious way that drives Finn mad, and he jumps up to remove it from the stove, earning a soft smile from Ezra.

They eat together at the table, and afterwards Finn gets to hold them, arms slung around their shoulders as they lean against him.

It’s late, but they stay up for him, trying to make the most of the hours that they have no matter how tired they may be come morning.

Eventually he follows them to bed and presses an achingly soft kiss to each of their lips before he says a reluctant goodbye. He watches them curl against one another, Ezra’s nose nestled in the soft hair that curls at the nape of their neck.

He watches them from the darkness, listens to the sound of their sleep-heavy breathing, of toes shifting beneath sheets and gentle sighs.

They’ve become a family, however unconventional they may be, and Finn is sick with how much he loves them.

He even finds himself wondering what eternity might look like with them by his side, but he resigns himself to the fact that it would be selfish.

They have each other, though, and long after he slinks back underground they still have someone to hold, to keep them  _safe_.


	2. Kingcup (Finn x Ezra)

**Flower Prompts: Kingcup** -  _youth, innocence, dawn_

* * *

 

Finn had promised himself a reprieve, a break from navigating such human things like love and longing, but there was no running from Ezra.

It’s the first time since Levi died, the first time out from beneath his shadow. The first time without that lingering,  _sickening_  dread that his sire could snap his fingers and have it all torn away from him in a millisecond.

It chokes him sometimes when he watches Ezra, even though Levi is twenty years dead, Finn is still conditioned to fear him.

The fear all of the cruel things he did and said.

Ezra catches him staring at the boarded bedroom window, a frown etched between dark brows. “Are you coming to bed?”

Finn turns to find him nestled beneath colourful sheets, emerald eyes wide, earnest. If breathing was necessary he knows that his breath would catch each and  _every_  time he looks at him.

He’s…  _good_. Through and through, not an ounce of spite or cruelty in his body, and Finn often hates himself for the cover on that window, or the times he drags him into his darkness beneath the town.

Ezra mirrors his frown, tying the flimsy robe he wears as he stands. “Hey, talk to me,” he sighs, a hand on Finn’s cheek, warmth blossoming upon cold skin beneath his touch.

Finn leans into it unconsciously, the tide drawn to his moon. “It’s nothing, just… thinking,” he says, lies, curling iron fingers around Ezra’s wrist and watching the way it lights up for him.

“Come to bed,” Ezra whispers, a longing behind those words, one Finn can do little to ignore, and a lot to quell.

He’s guided by a steady hand, transfixed as Ezra sits on the edge of the mattress and pushes his robe off of russet shoulders, skin littered with freckles that rival even the most complex of constellations.

“I love you,” Finn says, a hand on his thigh, guiding him backwards, settling above him. “I love you.”

Ezra smiles, a soft sigh as cool lips press over the place where his heart beats, its pace quickening, aflutter.

_I love you too._

Ezra cards his fingers through raven hair, a soothing scratch to his scalp, a breathy laugh as Finn forgets his woes and swallows the sound with a kiss so fierce that he feels like he could die all over again.


	3. Jonquil & Kingcup (Finn x Hunter NSFW)

_**Flower Prompts** _

_**Jonquil**  - desire_

_**Kingcup**  - youth, innocence, dawn_

 

* * *

He worries about keeping them in the darkness like this, but they welcome it, insisting they don’t miss the warmth of the sun on their skin as it shines through the window in the morning. It rises and sets without them really noticing, and the Hunter becomes a nocturnal creature when they’re wrapped up in his arms. 

Their fingers wind in dark sheets, his kiss rough, firm, _eager_. 

“One hour,” they say, breathless between kisses, and they’re as hungry for Finn as he is for them. “That’s all we have.” 

They curve against one another, his lips kissing along the line of their jaw, his teeth at their throat, and it takes everything in his power to stop him from biting down and feeling that hot rush that he so desires against his tongue. 

Instead, he loses himself in the fierceness of their affection, in the mumbled, “ _I want you, now_ ,” and the way they punctuate their statement with a teasing roll of their hips. 

Deft hands cup the curve of his ass, pulling him closer, hair splayed across the pillows as they gaze up at him with naked adoration, want, desire. “Finn, please. I have to leave at dawn.  _Please_ …” 

He groans at the thought of being away from them, nuzzling his face in the warm crook of their neck, inhaling deeply to commit the scent of them to memory. “Don’t go,” he whispers in a moment of weakness, hand dragging down their side, over waist and hip, back up over belly and rib to rest over the place where he can feel their heart beating beneath cold fingertips.

That hand slips lower, between spread legs where their heat is truly unmatched, their arousal evident, and he watches their face as he touches them. The blush upon their cheeks, the black of their eyes, the quickening breath, and the curl of their toes.

He curses his immortality in moments like this, curses the gifts that Vampirism has blessed him with when he can hear every filthy,  _desperate_  thought that they have, hear every stutter of their heartbeat and smell the rush of blood in their veins. 


	4. Sweet Pea (August x Hunter)

_**Flower Prompts: Sweet pea**  - delicate pleasures_

* * *

Of all the things they assumed about August, they’d never have guess they adored the rain so much. 

They get caught in it on the way back from market, hair stuck to wet cheeks and clothes soaked to the bone. They both laugh as the Hunter drags August under the shelter of the blacksmiths doorway, a brief reprieve from the unrelenting downpour.

August is breathless, as are they, and they reach up to cup their face, feeling droplets upon soft pale skin. August steps closer, smiling wide, bright,  _beautiful_ , and the Hunter presses their lips together in a kiss so fleeting it’s almost painful.

It’s not the first, and it won’t be the last, but every time it’s a revelation. 

“We should head home, get out of these sodden clothes,” August sighs, gratefully leaning into the hand that cups their cheek. 

The Hunter smirks, quirking a brow, and August nudges them in the ribs with a disapproving tut, but the pink that kisses their cheeks betrays their faux annoyance. “So that we don’t fall ill, you heathen.” 

“Oh, so you  _weren’t_  just thinking about getting me naked then, hm?”  

August winds long fingers in the front of their shirt and pulls them closer, nose to nose. Their voice is low when they speak, makes the Hunters toes curl in their boots. “I’m always having such thoughts.” 

Their lips are cold, but they grow warm with the next kiss. Open-mouthed and  _hungry_ , tongues a slick tangle, quiet whimpers as they shift, noses knocking. 

The Hunter swears they can feel the wild thrum of August’s heart with how tightly they’re seamed, musing how they wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here in this moment, beneath this torn canopy with rain soaking their skin. 

With  _August_. 

August pulls away, but only slightly, and the Hunter chases their lips with a smile, loathe to separate. They cling to one another for a moment longer, a shared sigh, and the Hunter takes August’s hand. “Come on, we better make a run for it again.” 

August clears their throat. “Take the lead,” they whisper, voice still hoarse and  _delicious_  from the kiss. 

Their feet splash in puddles on uneven cobblestones, their laughter loud and wonderful, filling the streets as they weave through the tiny town to find their way home.


	5. Yarrow (Finn x Hunter)

_**Flower Prompts: Yarrow**  - cure for a broken heart_

* * *

 

Finn is sure he’ll never tire of the sight of them in his bed, their hair messy upon his pillow, eyelids fluttering as they dream.

So used to seeing it empty, so used to being alone.

They’re comfortable to be here without him now, no longer wary of the other creatures that lurk down here, and his home is theirs too.

The thought of waking them pains him, but it’s as if he can’t help himself, his fingers twitching with the desire to feel warm skin. It anchors him, reminds him of the loves he’s had before, solidifies this one.

He settles upon the edge of the mattress, kicking off his shoes and freeing himself of unneeded clothes before slipping beneath the sheets they hold hostage.

Lips find their shoulder, a kiss, another, his arms winding around their waist as they stir and turn to find him.

“What time is it?” They mumble, pretty eyes heavy with sleep.

Finn buries his nose in their hair, breathing them in, arms squeezing tightly. “It’s late, my love. Go back to sleep.”

They press their hands to his chest, a soft, lazy smile crossing their lips. “You’ll stay?”

They settle against his chest, unbothered by the cold, just needing to feel him  _close_.

“I’ll stay.”

“I love you,” they tell him, the most natural thing in the world, the easiest utterance.

“I love you too.”


	6. Zinnia (August x Hunter)

_**Flower Prompts: Zinnia** \- I mourn your absence _

_warning for blood/death_

* * *

 

Another blade buries itself deep in his stomach, the third, he thinks. 

The grass is wet and cold when he falls, tickling his cheeks as he gasps for air. He’s lucky that the creature already knows that it’s won, its hulking form retreating into the blackened treeline as his blood paints the ground a violent crimson. 

He stares up at the stars, tastes copper on his tongue, blood rushing thick and fast through his fingertips as he presses his hand to the worst of the wounds. He knows hope is lost,  _knows_  he won’t survive something this deep, but he still has to _try_. 

Has to show them that he did. 

The smell of iron grows thick and suffocating, and he knows this feeling well, has been injured many times before, but this is different, final. 

He grants himself a final glance at the moon that seems to shine so much brighter in Lunaris than anywhere else, a moon that he’s stared up at so many times, his guide in the impossible darkness.

Then, a memory, one that sticks out above all others, the final thing he lets himself see before he closes his eyes for very the last time. 

_“What are you looking at?”_

_He huffs a laugh, and August’s nose crinkles in that charming way it does when they’re dissatisfied. “You, of course. What else could possibly be more interesting than you?”_

_Colour paints their cheeks, betraying the disgusted noise that falls from their lips as he reaches to take their face in his hands, turning in the grass to face them. “What about the stars, hm? Surely they’re far more interesting than me. Don’t you want to look at them instead?”_

_Nose touches nose, and August’s breath is warm against his skin as they exhale sharply, the endless blue of their eyes piercing in the darkness, violet shimmering around the edges as he brushes a thumb over the dangerous curve of their lips._

_“No, August. Impossible,” he whispers, his voice low, raspy. He swallows thickly, clearing the lump that’s formed in his throat, that burning desire he feels whenever they’re near. “I could never want anything quite as much as I want you.”_

_Then, a kiss, their first, and August’s lips are pliant and soft against his own._

_They taste like fresh air, sweet, tart, and he catches the quiet noise they make with his tongue, deepening the kiss._

_It’s an unmatched bliss, his toes curling in his boots, fingertips tingling, every nerve in his body set alight as he loses himself under the stars, in August Willenheim._

“General?  _General_ …” 

August turns their head, blood rushing in their ears as they find the young Enforcer that seeks their attention. “I… what?”

She clears her throat, something that looks a lot like pity shining in wide green eyes. “He… he has no one. I mean… there’s no one here other than you that can…  _can_ …” 

August nods once, feeling weightless as they stare over her shoulder at the bloodied sheet that lays in the middle of the clearing. “Yes, of course. I’ll do it.” 

She closes her eyes, turning her head to look at anything other than them. “I’m sorry, General. I’m so  _sorry_.” 

The world stops spinning when the sheet is pulled away, when they lay eyes on his lifeless form. 

This morning they woke to him beside them, limbs tangled, the first rays of sunshine upon bare skin, his arm slung protectively over their waist. August had smiled when he’d mumbled their name in his sleep, edged ever closer until they stirred him from his slumber with a kiss. 

August has known death before, but never quite like this. His hand rests upon his waist, over the most violent of his many wounds, and August huffs a cruel laugh. “You stubborn man.” 

Their cheeks are wet as they reach out with a trembling hand to brush away the shock of hair that covers his face, but their touch doesn’t linger as long as they’d like, for their Hunter was never this  _cold_.  

They should have been here, by his side, and that thought is enough to tear the sob that forms in the back of their throat from their lips. A violent noise, something inhuman as their tears begin to fall freely, faster than they can swipe them away. 

They stand, allowing themselves a final look at him before they turn on their heel and stare up at the stars, a clear night, the moon full. 

“General Willenheim, is i–” 

“It’s him, yes.” 

“General, I… I need to hear a name, for the paperwork.” 

August takes a deep breath, and they utter his name, squeezing their eyes shut, picturing his face in that moment before they first kissed. 

The moment their life changed forever.


	7. Lily (Piper x Hunter)

_**Flower Prompts: Lily**  - majesty_

* * *

She gratefully takes the bottle that Piper offers, their legs dangling freely over the side of the building, a blanket beneath them. They both stare out over the town, the strings of lights that cover the streets, candlelight shining in the windows of crooked houses. 

The Hunter takes a sip, welcomes the warmth as the spiced rum slides down her throat before she passes it back to Piper, fingers brushing, a glance shared. 

Piper holds the bottle to the sky, mutters a quiet, “ _Cheers_ ,” and finishes off the dark amber dregs. 

There’s laugh lines around her mouth when she smiles, and though she’s beautiful, Piper looks a lot older than her twenty four years. She’s weary, broken down, and the Hunter loves her more than anything on this miserable earth.  

She loves her fully, without question, from the freckles on her cheeks to the violent scars that litter her skin. She wonders how Piper was at eighteen, if she was always this jaded and hungry for a kill, or if she was sparkling and full of blind wonder like so many young Hunter’s are before they’ve witnessed the horrors of this world. 

“Do you find it easier now?” She asks her quietly, and Piper smiles softly, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. 

“I don’t, no. But I find myself enjoying it more, and that terrifies me.” 

The Hunter edges closer, thighs touching, and she reaches for Piper’s hand, presses a kiss to a calloused palm. “You’re incredible, Piper.” 

Fingers laced, and Piper turns to catch her gaze, sapphire eyes shining in the low hanging moonlight. “I love you, you know?” 

The Hunter offers her a wide smile, something bright that makes Piper laugh and lean in to press their lips together in the sweetest of kisses. 


	8. Jonquil (Finn x Hunter NSFW)

**_Flower Prompts: Jonquil_ ** _\- temptation_

* * *

 

He’s seen him in the tavern before, the new Hunter that’s been labelled as their saviour, and Finn can’t help but be curious. He watches him from afar at first, takes note of the drink that he orders (whiskey, neat), and the distinct lack of company that he prefers to keep.

He’s overworked, tired, and yet he still manages to be the most enchanting human Finn has laid his eyes on in a long while.

A fleeting glance here, a smile there, and Finn finally decides its time to approach with his usual caution.

So, on a night where the Hunter boldly propositions him to join him outside, Finn could hardly be rude enough to refuse.

A familiar and satisfying red creeps over the Hunters cheeks as his back finds cold, wet stone. He’s unwilling to relinquish Finn’s kiss, moving with him when he pulls away to let him breathe, but the Hunter apparently cares little for such human needs in this moment.

He (not so) subtly grinds his hips, impatience fueling his every movement, and Finn chuckles low and deep as the Hunter tugs at the fastenings of his trousers.

“Eager, aren’t you?” Finn says, grabbing his wrist with a firm hand, and the Hunter frowns, plump lips that are red with attention twisting into an unsatisfied pout before Finn guides him lower, their fingers laced as he takes him in his hand.

The Hunter groans as he feels him hard and ready in his palm, and Finn can’t tear his eyes away from his face. He’s handsome in an obvious way, long hair tied into a neat braid, impossibly bright eyes, and he can’t wait to taste him, to  _feel_  him.

“Are you going to eat me?” The Hunter smirks, teasing but not really, his breath hitching as Finn pushes his thigh between his spread legs.

“Maybe. If you ask nicely,” Finn purrs, running his nose along a sharp jaw, up and over the shell of his ear. He feels him shudder against him, a deafening chorus of please, please,  _please_ echoing in his mind.

Finn kisses him again, his growl swallowed by a greedy mouth as the Hunter strokes him, beyond eager, beyond wanting. He  _needs_.

It doesn’t take long for the Hunter to be lifted with his legs around the Vampires waist, ankles crossed at his back as he tries his hardest to be impressed by his strength while in such a state of utter bliss.

His hold on Finn tightens as cold fingers dig  _hard_  into the flesh of his bared ass, each thrust of Finn’s hips setting his skin alight as he sheathes himself to the hilt. He turns his head to the side, muffling a broken gasp against his shoulder as Finn pays great attention to the tensed column of his throat.

His tastes him, drags his tongue over his skin, a whispered, “ _Say please,_ ” and the Hunter closes his eyes as those dagger sharp fangs threaten to sink into supple flesh.

The word is half ripped from him as white-hot pain engulfs him, his lips parted on a silent scream, dark and lustrous raven hair snarling about his fingers as Finn drinks him dry.

Finn sucks the delicious pink from his teeth, savouring every last drop as he reaches between them and takes the Hunter in his hand.

He circles his thumb over the crown of his cock, spreading the wetness down his shaft as he strokes him, coaxing him closer and closer to the edge with a few filthy words.

He’s close, but the Hunter is  _closer_ , and all it takes is a simple,  _harsh_  tug of that neatly tied braid to have him curling inward like a cat, crying out as he spills messily between them.

Finn kisses him through it, a crushing thing, a fight of tongue and teeth as the Hunter tightens around him, gasping,  _clawing_  for a steady breath. The Vampire finds his finish, his bliss, hips rocking gently as he fills him to the brim.

He pulls away, leaves his thighs wet as he helps him stand on unsteady legs. A hand at his cheek, cooling overheated skin, and the Hunter finds his thumb with his tongue, sucking the salt from his digits.

Finn growls, impressed,  _enamoured_ , and the Hunter offers him a grin, a lazy, sated thing. He quirks a scarred brow, asks him his name, and he’s made sure he’ll never forget it.


	9. Quince (Piper x Hunter NSFW)

_**Flower Prompts: Quince**  - temptation_

* * *

 

Piper walks a few steps ahead of them, determined, her daggers still clutched tightly in her hands, knuckles bleeding white as she scans the pitch black treeline.

They can  _feel_  adrenaline rolling off her in waves, the thrill of the hunt, the chase. They feel it too, and they need to contain it before it spills forth, turns into something dangerous.

She stops dead in her tracks and all they can hear is her breathing, heavy, laboured. It’s unbearable, and she’s too  _close_ , right there, begging to be pulled close and  _taken_.

Piper spins as if she’s heard every filthy thought that scatters through their brain, her lips parted, cheeks flushed. Dark sapphire eyes find theirs, and the Hunter catches her in their arms.

Her blades are thrown to the ground, their own weapon dangling uselessly at their back as they scramble to free it from its holster, and words aren’t needed as her lips press crush passionately against theirs.

She tastes like the first sip of spiced rum after a lifetime of being sober, like warmth, like spice. They’re grateful for the thick tree trunk they find as they stumble backwards, grounding themselves as Piper jumps up, legs around their waist.

Under the moonlight, out in the open, blood from their kill still wet upon their skin, and there’s that urgent primal  _need_  that they both so violently share.

Piper tugs off her armour, spreads open her shirt, her trousers, a broad hand at her back as they lean in to taste the sweat on her skin. She fists their shirt, tugging,  _tearing_ , her touch trailing lower to seek out their belt. “I need you,” she growls, as if they hadn’t already guessed.

Another kiss as her hand panders between their thighs, feeling them hot against her palm, and this one is more desperate than the first, both of them fighting for control.

They grow hot from her touch, her careful strokes, finding the peak of her breast with their tongue, smiling as she gasps at the feel of the cold night air upon wet skin when they move away, watching the flesh pucker.

“Fuck me,” she rasps, impatient as she moves her hand in the way that she knows they like, that drives them crazy. They feel the tight squeeze of her strong thighs, their fingers finding all the scars at her back that they’ve long committed to memory before they grip the curve of her ass and drive their hips together.

They watch as her eyes flutter closed, her breath catching in her lungs as they fill her up, their hands moving endlessly, unable to get enough of one another. Biting, sucking, a tangle of tongues and teeth as they catch each other’s cries of pleasure with broken kisses.

Piper says their name so loudly that they hope the town can hear them, a push and pull that edges on dangerous as they break each other apart.

Their knees find wet grass as they fall to the forest floor, moving over her, her wrists bundled neatly into their hand above her head.

She arches her back, driving them deeper, driven  _wild_ , and she finally falls apart with a grateful cacophony of yes, yes,  _yes,_ and the Hunter gratefully followers her into her bliss.


	10. Yarrow (August x Hunter)

_**Flower Prompts: Yarrow**  - cure for a broken heart_

* * *

A nightmare. Something old and broken, memories of times past where all they had to cling to was words that stung and disappointment. 

Silly for it to still haunt them like this, but August holds grudges, and they’re unforgiving, especially when some pain runs bone-deep. 

They feel a hand upon their shoulder, warm, familiar, and a thing as simple as a tender touch lures them back to the waking world. A smile, a soft, lazy thing as they open their eyes and find him leaning over them. 

“Another?” He says, shifting to embrace them as August sits up against the headboard, his hands rubbing their arms, a reassuring gesture that August often clings to. 

They run trembling fingers through their hair, swallowing away the dryness in their throat. “Another, yes. It’s fine.  _I’m_  fine.” 

He doesn’t push it, and that’s exactly what August needs. Instead, he moves forward to press his forehead against theirs, pulling them closer. Fingers flutter over their cheek, wiping away tears they hadn’t noticed falling, his hand moving to curl around the back of their neck. “I’ve got you.” 

With him around, the pain is barely noticeable. 

He wasn’t supposed to stay in Lunaris after the case was closed, was supposed to move on, to start over just as he had his whole life prior to this. But everything changed when they met.  _Everything_.  

August concentrates on the way his cheeks are still lightly flushed from sleep, the way his fingers snarl in their hair, they way his other hand rests upon their thigh. 

They come alive for him, and though they can barely find the words in moments like this to tell him exactly what he means to them, they know he feels it. It seeps out of every pore, their every nerve ending alight when he touches them,  _shit_ , even just _looks_  at them.

He tilts his head, their noses brushing as he seeks his permission, and August gives it by closing the distance between them. His lips are warm, soft, perfect, and August is happy and loved, those awful things from their life before him forgotten when they fall into each others arms. 


	11. Pound of Flesh (Piper x Hunter)

Piper scoffs at the limp, lifeless corpse that lays at her feet. She plants her heel upon the creatures chest as she pulls her blades free from its chest, and there’s that familiar,  _sickening_ crunch of broken bones.

She wipes her forehead with the back of her hand, russet skin streaked crimson and black, blood and ichor. “Are you okay?”

The Hunter stares up at her, takes her filthy hand when it’s offered, Piper pulling her to her feet. “That was too close for comfort,” she mumbles, brushing dirt from her trousers.

Piper’s grip lingers, warmth seeping into her skin, the contact dulling those incessant post-fight aches and pains a little.

She lets go when their eyes lock, and Piper snarls, flicking foul blood from the metal of her daggers. “Every demon wants its pound of flesh. You let your guard down, and you were almost it’s fucking dinner.”

She trudges forward in misery, boots loud as they find gravel, and the Hunter follows her without question.

They know that this is the life they both chose, fighting, death, survival. There’s only one thing in the Hunters life that’s certain, and that’s Piper.

“Hey,” she shouts, stepping in front of Piper, stopping her in her tracks with a hand to her chest. “I’m fine. You’re fine.  _It_ is dead.”

Piper frowns, a deep scowl, but her cheeks are bright, flushed. “Don’t do that again,” she hisses, venom in her tone. “Promise me.”

The Hunter smiles, raising a hand to Piper’s cheek, wiping away a smudge of mud, blood,  _whatever_. She’s testing the waters, watching Piper’s furious gaze soften, brushing a thumb across her cheek.

She brings her back to the present, helps her forget. “I can’t promise you.” she sighs, pressing her finger to Piper’s lips as she opens them to begin an inevitably fiery protest. “It’s human nature to react, to protect. Especially when I see someone I…  _like_ , in harms way.”

“Like, hm?” Piper smirks, slapping her hand away before she’s swiftly rethinking initiating that loss of contact, boldly stepping forward to catch her lips in a crushing kiss.

A fleeting thing, but the Hunter’s lips tingle from the ferocity of it. “ _I’ll_  harm you next time it happens,” Piper purrs, forehead to forehead, fingers gripping her waist  _tight._ “Got it?”


	12. Need Me (August x Hunter NSFW)

She sits upon August, straddles them, her thighs bracketing their hips. She feels like she’s always belonged here, her shirt spread open and falling off her shoulders as August takes in the sight of her with a look of barely restrained lust.

Her fingers walk down their chest, from collarbone to rib, fluttering over their stomach, lower through the light smattering of dark hair that disappears beneath their trousers.

It all happened so fast, and her skin is still wet from the rain, August leaning close to catch a stray droplet that follows the the curve of her throat with their tongue.

She does not take her eyes off them, their hair spilling free of the neat queue of their ponytail thanks to her insistent fingertips, silvering curls cascading over pale shoulders.

August is  _beautiful_ , unlike any human she’s ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on, and the thought that they could be  _hers_  makes her breath catch.

They dig their fingers into her thighs as she kisses the edge of their jaw before resting her forehead against theirs, allowing herself a moment to just bask in their presence.

No office, no paperwork, no monsters to distract them. She cups August’s face in her hands, kissing them deeply, as though she’s parched and they’re the only thing that could possibly quench her thirst.

“August,” she whispers, and the name sounds so  _good_  in her mouth, on her tongue. The way they smile up at her tells her they agree. “I need you. Do you need me too?”

A blush upon their cheeks, one that spreads to the tips of their ears, spills over their chest, the same decadent crimson as the wine that they favour.

She presses her thumb to their lips, leaning close as they open their mouth for her, and she can’t imagine how she could possibly ever do anything other than kiss August ever again.

“I must have you,” they say, a certain authority in their words that makes her shift in their lap, the  _ache_  she feels for them growing painful.

“No going back,” she says, a smirk, but she means it. This isn’t a fleeting thing, and she needs them to know she’s serious about this, about  _them_.

August deserves to be loved. Wholly, completely, and she’s right here, willing to give them everything she has.

They splay their hands upon her back, fingers twitching. A deep breath, a sharper exhale, and August says, “Please.  _Yes_.”

They somehow already know all of her lines, her curves, the fullness of her breast in their palm as they begin to explore her. A scar that sits below her rib, something old and too close for comfort, and August kisses it, traces it with their tongue.

She parts their trousers, the buttons already undone thanks to their prior fumbling, and August is so hard for her, hissing through clenched teeth as she takes them in her hand. A stroke, another, and she touches herself at the same time, showing them just how  _wet_  she is for them.

“I’ve thought about this for so long,” she breathes, a hitch, a rasp, and August muffles a groan against her shoulder as she positions herself, sinking down onto their length.

The sofa creaks quietly as they shift, adjusting to the feeling of being filled, of being surrounded. She lets out a shaky breath, hand seeking hand as they lace their fingers, August holding her steady as she begins to move.

She drops her chin to her chest, her hair a curtain around them, and August reaches to brush it aside, fingers tracing the curve of her parted lips. “Let me see you,” they say softly. “I want to watch you fall apart.”

She whimpers at that, sinks down as far as she can until she’s fully seated, a quick, quiet laugh as she registers the self-satisfied smirk that spreads across their lips.

“Then  _make_  me,” she purrs, fingers delicate at the goblet of their throat, watching them closely, feeling so  _hot_  she may very well burst out of her skin.

A look of desperation in their eyes as their gazes lock, their breathing heavy, and she wants to fall with August here just as she would in the field, a Hunter unquestionably loyal to her Enforcer.

“Close,” she groans, another whimper as her orgasm takes hold, losing her rhythm as her legs shake, toes curling.

August does not survive her, the tight,  _wet_  heat of her as she comes too much to bear, and they spill messily over her thighs when she pulls away.

Hard to breathe, hard to  _think_ , hard to do anything other than press their lips together again, tongues a lazy glide as she melts against them.

She kisses their forehead, their nose, flushed cheeks, smiling wide, wide,  _wide_  as they run their hands over the expanse of her back in a soothing drag. “You’re beautiful,” she says, hopeless for them, the thought of parting painful.

August holds her close, pressing a kiss to her chest, her heart wild in her ribs. “ _Stay_ ,” they say, sky blue eyes staring at her with naked adoration. “Stay with me tonight.”

Her kiss is her answer, and she can’t wait to wake up beside them, to lay tangled beneath their sheets, to live, to  _love_.


	13. Let You Kill Me (Finn x Hunter NSFW)

“Don’t be afraid,” Finn purrs, the cadence of it making the Hunter shudder, shake.

They tilt their head, baring their throat to him to imply trust, their chest heaving with laboured breaths. They’d wanted this since the moment they fell in love,  _begged_  him until he broke.

Every time he sinks his fangs into their flesh they find a bliss like no other.

That white-hot burn, the  _rush_  of euphoria that overrules every other meaningless thought, every emotion until all that remains is the desire to be marked, eaten alive.

The Hunter is sick with want as he runs an iron hand up along their bare thigh, gooseflesh covering every inch of exposed skin.

They often forget just how dangerous Finn is, the stark contrast between their lover and the Vampire he truly is. The strength that lingers beneath the surface, the sharp claws and sharper teeth, the eyes that glow and the grin that would give any normal human nightmares.

But the Hunter is not normal.

The Hunter dreams of Finn prying then apart with those claws and teeth, their body throbbing with obscene thoughts, an ache between their legs that will not dissipate until they’ve had their fill.

Their mouths slot together in a rush, Finn surging forward to split their lips with an indolent lick that has the Hunter’s breath hitching. They part their legs in invitation, coaxing Finn closer, a hand at the back of his neck, pleading with those golden eyes.

Finn murmurs their name and they catch it on the tip of their tongue, his hand carding through their hair, grabbing, tugging their head back to expose the tense column of their throat.

The pain of it anchors them, their hips bucking upward to meet Finn’s, a pathetic,  _helpless_ whimper when they feel him hard and thick against them, repeating the movement over, and over, and  _over_  until Finn is pinning them down, hissing, fangs bared.

“Stop,” he growls, but then he’s smiling, smirking, so fucking  _pleased_  with himself, with what he does to them. “Do you have no sense of self-preservation?“ He whispers against their mouth, scarred brow quirked in question.

“Not when I’m with you,” they answer, a messy kiss pressed to Finn’s jaw.

Finn laughs at their honesty, and the Hunter drinks in the sight of him, hyper-aware of the muscular lines that sculpt his chest, his thighs, and he’s a work of art, a sculpture carved from marble.

The ache that blooms in their stomach is raging now, an all-consuming heat that threatens to end them, and Finn  _knows_. They’re screaming on the inside, making sure he can hear the rapid quick-thrum of their pulse, the filthy thoughts that run through their mind.

“So desperate,” Finn murmurs, low and husky, his hand pandering between their thighs, making sure they’re ready, making them gasp. “So  _loud_.”

Dignity forgotten, and the Hunter moans, a guttural sound as Finn spreads their thighs, finally pushing into the tight clench of their body.

He drags a claw down their cheek as they adjust to the intrusion, tauntingly stopping at their throat, passively tracing the veins that only he can see, copper rich, flowing with life. “I wish you could see yourself as I see you,” he whispers, voice low,  _deep_  as he begins to move languidly.

“And how is that?” They stutter, and they’d be embarrassed with how choked their words are if they could think of anything other than the thick,  _slick_  glide of his cock inside them as he quickens his pace. 

Finn smirks again, pointedly sucking their bottom lip between his teeth, fangs catching against swollen flesh. He ignores their question, turning them onto their front, sheathing himself to the hilt before they have the chance to miss him.

The Hunter fervently rocks back against him, back arched into a sinuous bow, the sound of skin on skin echoing off windowless walls. Melding gasps and utterances of the other’s name follow, and Finn scrapes his fangs along their neck as he steadies his pace. He kisses, sucks, nips, leaving a map of pretty bruises upon their skin, macabre petals that bloom and blossom.

_A monster, just like you._

Finn hums, fangs pricking the surface of their skin, tongue cool as it flicks out to taste the drops that bead at the surface before he sinks them deep,  _deeper_.

_I love you so much, I’m going to let you kill me._

His hips do not slow as he drinks, his fingers laced with the Hunter’s, pinning them to the bed. The noises he makes as he swallows them down pushing them closer to the edge than anything else ever could, and they smile into the pillow, a muffled cry as they come hard and fast,  _messy_ on dark sheets.

Finn pulls his mouth free with a slick,  _wet_  pop, tasting copper on his tongue, sucking the crimson from his teeth with a moan that’s nothing short of sinful.

He tightens his grip on them, bruising as they beg for  _more_ , harder, faster. Boneless and sated, but the pleasure far outweighs the pain as Finn buries deep, filling them up until they overflow.

He turns them again with ease, cupping their face in his hands, thumbs tracing flushed cheeks before he moves in for a kiss. They taste themselves on his tongue, and the only thought that remains through the haze is I love you, I love you,  _I love you_.


	14. Let Me Love You (August x Hunter)

She stands in the dark, in rain and wind, uncaring as she waits. Her fist against the door, and she can’t stop thinking about the kiss.

Her name has never sounded better than when it had rolled off their tongue. Kiss-swollen lips and messy hair, fingers that tremble, an unmatched ache, impossible to ignore.

August has avoided her for days, and if she doesn’t get an answer tonight, she may very well go mad.

August appears with a frown, that perpetually furrowed brow, but those blue eyes widen when they see her on their stoop.

They can’t see her tears where they mix with the rain, where they fall silently, without notice.

“What are yo—“

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Her heart hammers, blood rushing in her ears, and it’s all  _too much._ The urge to reach out and grab them, to have them touch her, kiss her, complete her.

An audible hitch of their breath, knuckles bleeding white as they grip the doorframe, eyes fluttering closed as if they can’t bear to look at her.

“I’m your superior. I’m  _responsible_  for you, for your life. I cannot.”

“You  _will_  not,” she snaps, her voice a little louder now, her passion bleeding through. Her heart threatens to crack under the pressure, to split into a million jagged pieces. “You think you don’t deserve to be happy, but you deserve it more than  _anyone_ , August.”

When their eyes open again they glow a vivid violet, the way they do in battle, when they cannot control the magic that flows through their veins.

August is powerful,  _terrifying_ , and she loves them so much she thinks she might break.

Their eyes fade back to that piercing sky blue before they speak, cheeks flushed a charming dusky rose as they finally meet her gaze. “It is not that I will not, it is not that I don’t  _want you_ , it is that I can’t. I don’t know how, it wouldn’t be  _fair_.”

Their words break, crack at the edges, and before she can process them she’s stepping forward, crossing the threshold, reaching for them.

Their lips crash together, better than the first, uninhibited and  _messy_  as they claw at one another’s clothing.

They only break apart when they have to, when they need to  _breathe,_ and August curls long fingers at her cheek, brushing a soaked strand of hair behind her ear.

“I don’t… I don’t  _know_ ,” they whisper, frustration and sadness rolling off them in waves.

“Let me leave, or let me love you,” she says, and August’s gaze doesn’t leave her lips, a stray tear falling down their cheek.

They respond with another kiss, the door kicked shut behind her.


	15. Like Sunshine (Finn x Gabriel)

Gabriel is like the sun on a cool Winter’s day. He burns so very brightly. Golden, kind,  _beautiful_.

It catches Finn in the simplest of moments. Reading a book, walking down the street, laying in bed, his head upon Gabriel’s chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of it.

He’s giddy with the way he makes him feel.

Sleep-mussed hair curls at his temples as he yawns over the stove, a loud sigh, crease marks from the pillow still visible upon his cheek.

Finn sneaks up on him, reaching out to grab his waist, pressing a quick kiss to his neck. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

Gabriel crinkles his nose, returning his smile, a lazy,  _delicious_  thing as that shining silver gaze meets Finn’s gold. “My Finnegan, always so  _bloody_  cheerful in the mornings,” he teases, turning in his arms, gentle fingers finding Finn’s cheek.

Of all the things Finn had imagined for himself, he truly never thought he’d have this.

Finn feels heat blossom beneath Gabriel’s touch, a habit formed and unbroken, unable to shake the way he makes his heart stutter, even after all of this time.

He studies his long, dark lashes, the perfect line of his nose, the familiarity of full lips. The sight of him always makes his chest ache, sends his thoughts to places that distract and destroy.

A content hum, and they’re nose to nose, Gabriel leaning forward, and Finn keeps his hands steady at his partners hips. “You’ll be late for training…  _again_.”

Finn quirks a dark brow, his smile morphing into a smirk, a sly thing. “And who’s fault will that be?”

Gabriel scoffs, the hand that cups his face moving upward into too-long raven hair. “I was standing here, minding my own business, making you breakfast.”

Fingertips trail up over Gabriel’s spine through the thin white fabric of his shirt, and he melts against Finn, pushing him against the countertop. A soft  _oof_ , and they’re both laughing, breakfast long forgotten.

They feel impossible relief with the first touch of lip against lip, and there’s so much said in this kiss, more than words could ever convey.

I am his, he is mine, we are one.

Forever.


	16. You've Got A Hold On Me (Finn x Hunter)

Candlelight flickers on one side of her face, orange flecks shining in those wide eyes as she smiles up at him. She never complains, never disturbs, never breaks her gaze.

She says that the sound of charcoal against parchment is soothing, that welcome rhythmic swipe as he draws.

She loves the way that he presses his tongue to the tip of a fang when he’s concentrating. It’s such a human habit, but one so inherently  _in_ human with Finn.

He pauses, the fingers of his flesh hand stained black as he reaches for the bottle, taking a swig before he’s passing to her.

She sits up, bare feet finding the soft rug upon cold stone. Whiskey, of course, and she hated it so much before, but now she can’t get enough of that sweet, rich taste.

The way  _he_  tastes.

The label is dusty, written in a language she’s never seen, and as she brings it to her lips he sits forward in his chair. “Do you like it?”

A crinkle of her nose as the liquid burns her throat. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, exhaling sharply. “I like it.”

Finn huffs a laugh, a solitary fang grazing his bottom lip, and this is one of those errant moments where she can’t quite believe he’s  _real_.

Bare chest, bare feet, the trousers he wears loose but leaving little to the imagination, his hair a mess from where she’d sunk her fingers into it a little over an hour ago.

He chuckles as he hears her thoughts scatter, and she clears her throat, laying back against dark sheets with a smile and a roll of her eyes, her cheeks heating.

A few more swipes of the pencil, that hungry golden gaze brushing over her form like a caress as he studies the curves of her. A smirk,  _that_  smirk on his lips as he sets aside the finished drawing and moves to join her.

He hums, content as he settles above her, running his nose along her jaw, nuzzling the soft hair at her temple. “You’ve got a hold on me, Hunter,” he purrs, words sending sparks skittering across her skin.

She swallows thickly, reaching to cup the curve of his skull, tilting her head so that his lips find hers with ease.

Finn kisses her like she could bring him back to life.


	17. Drinking, Drunk (August x Hunter NSFW)

A rare thing, for the General to be seen in the White Wolf. It’s well known that they get their wine from places much farther away than here, a neatly wrapped package appearing at their door once a month.

Rarer, to see them smiling,  _laughing_ , and perhaps it’s the company they’ve started to keep that makes those once dull eyes sparkle in the charming way they are tonight.

Things are changing in Lunaris, and no one is really very sure if it’s for better, or for worse.

August Willenheim finding happiness was never something they thought they’d see. Destined to wallow in their sadness, in their loneliness, and now the new, bright eyed Hunter has them  _giggling_.

Rum spills from their overflowing cups, and August leans against him, looking at him with fond affection.

Their hand in his when they leave, a sway in both of their steps, smiles wide, the widest they’ve seen.

Long fingers play with the soft hair that curls at the nape of his neck, and as August fumbles to unlock their door he stays close, a quick kiss pressed to their temple. He whispers words for no one else to hear, and August smiles.

They grab his wrist when he says goodnight, words rushing out before they’ve even considered the implications.

“Stay with me tonight.”

The Hunter stares, silent as he quietly contemplates his response, August’s fingers curling a little tighter.

There are dark circles under August’s eyes, and they’ve been there long before the Hunter appeared, but he wonders if there’s a way he can help banish them.

August steels their gaze, bottom lip tugged between their teeth. “I don’t want to be alone,” they say, quiet, a waver to their words.

August’s hand slips from his wrist, and suddenly they both feel drunk on something other than cheap rum.

The Hunter reaches for them, pulling them close against his chest. August fists his shirt, fabric bunched in curled fingers as they bury their face against a broad shoulder.

He smells like heaven, like something hopeful, and August drowns in the way he holds them so tightly.

“I’ll stay,” he says, and August pulls away, but not too far. Never too far.

They find him smiling, staring, fingers reaching out to touch their face. A brush of a thumb over lightly flushed cheekbones, and suddenly August is being kissed.

The flash of heat that skitters across their skin is akin to being burned,  _scalded_ , something fierce that grabs hold of them and doesn’t let go even long after their lips have parted.

_I’ll stay._

The back of their knees meet the edge of the sofa, and they fall breathlessly to the soft cushions, a trail of clothes left behind, long forgotten upon an expensive rug.

_I’ll stay._

His teeth at their throat, a hand pandering between their thighs, and the Hunter is warm, slick,  _sin_. August utters his name like a prayer, a plea, a bloody  _benediction_.

_I’ll stay._

He tastes like mint, like fresh air, and August breathes him in, shamelessly greedy. Their hair is a mess beneath his fingers, but they don’t care. The noises he has them making are foreign, desperate, but they don’t  _care_.

Their toes have never curled quite like that before.

_I’ll stay._

They lay in blissed-out silence, naked limbs a tangle beneath silken bedsheets, a hand resting upon his chest, feeling his heartbeat as it finally finds a steady pace once again.

The Hunter stays.


	18. Beast (Finn x Hunter NSFW)

Finn is enamoured,  _transfixed_  by how gorgeous they look under moonlight, and he watches them as they stare up at the stars, a smile curling at their lips as he draws nearer.

They close their eyes as he places cool hands upon their shoulders, sliding them down their arms, gooseflesh prickling in wake of his touch.

Their breath hitches, their heart a hammer in their chest, the frantic way it thrums impossible to ignore as he kisses the nape of their neck. “I want you,” they say quietly, and Finn feels it, is shaken to his core by the simplest of words.

“I  _always_  want you.”

Fabric pushed aside, his lips pressed to their shoulder, a deep breath, an even deeper sigh, and they turn in his arms. They reach up to hold his face between their palms, Finn hearing their every skittering thought, and they’re practically screaming.

_I feel wild when I’m with you._

Finn reaches upwards to curl his fingers around their wrists as they trace the scar that runs through his brow, fingers gentle along the bridge of his nose, curious as they find the curve of his lips.

A quiet whimper as his hand finds their hip, a careful tug, and the kiss is  _rough_ , everything they’d begged for, dreamed of. Arms wind around his neck, hands messy in his hair, and they breathe him in, greedy as they inhale the taste, smell,  _feel_  of him.

He pulls their bottom lip between his teeth, fangs grazing kiss-swollen flesh, and he growls when they groan. They want this, here,  _now_ , under dark sky and moon, and Finn cannot deny them.

They fold into one another, Finn’s effortless grace the only thing stopping them from falling to the dirt as they find the trunk of an old oak tree. The Hunter gasps as they pull apart, clever fingers finding the button of his trousers, forehead to forehead as they feel exactly what they do to him, hard and  _thick_  in their palm.

Out in the open like this they should feel exposed, but it only drives them,  _feeds_  them.

They slide to the ground, the earth cold against their back through the thin fabric of their shirt, an even colder body above them, but they don’t  _care._

Iron fingers curl in the dirt, their hair a fan amongst the grass as Finn pushes inside, filling them up, making them cry out. They watch the stars with a smile as he moves to unmake them, tongue and teeth at their throat, and the harsh fingers in his hair tell him to  _bite_.

_Please…_

The pain is always welcome, even more so tonight, and Finn leaves his tongue over bloodied skin when he’s done, kissing the mark he’s made, lapping up the final beads of succulent copper.

He wraps an arm around their waist, holding them close as they thrust upwards to meet the desperate rut of his hips. Close, close,  _close_ , and Finn runs a finger over their spine just to see them shake.

“ _Finn_ ,” they stutter, lips parted on the gasping breath that follows, waiting for him to catch them with a kiss.

Finn doesn’t falter, pushing  _deeper_ , as deep as he can until stars burst behind their eyelids, infinitely brighter than the ones that hang in the sky.

Knees press into the dirt, their hands at his back, moving over muscle that shifts beneath pale skin, and Finn comes undone, spilling ribbons upon their thighs as he pulls away with a noise that’s nothing short of sinful.

He’s never looked more satisfied, and they’ve never felt more wrecked, more exposed.

“I love you,” they rasp, fingers in raven curls once again, reeling him in, tongue finding tongue.

_Wild, wild, wild._


	19. When I Say (Alkar x Hunter NSFW)

She knows what she’s doing, even through the light haze of the whiskey they shared, she  _knows_.

It’s impossible to get lost in anything other than him, his claws digging  _hard_  into the flesh of her waist, guiding her up, pulling her down.

She steadies herself with a hand upon his shoulder, fingers twitching over the jagged, silvering scar that scores through his collarbone, down his chest.

Warm crimson eyes burn into hers, and the way he looks up at her makes her shudder.

The creak of the mattress as she shifts, the quiet whimper that falls from kiss-swollen lips as he fills her to the brim, all of it too much, never enough, hot, hot,  _hot_.

“Not yet,” she demands, grinning at his protesting moan. “When I say.”

She’s close, and she knows he can tell, can  _smell_  it on her.

His lip curls at the corner, something between a grin and a snarl as his lips find her throat, tasting the sweat that beads at the hollow.

He breathes her name, a rumble deep in his chest as her thighs tighten around his waist, her hips stuttering as she finds her finish.

She chases the feeling with a languid grind that has her hissing through clenched teeth, overstimulated,  _wrecked_ , but somehow still wanting more.

Alkar pushes a hand into her hair as she kisses him, a messy,  _slick_  tangle of tongue, teeth catching against his lips.

“ _Please,”_  he rasps, thrusting gently, painfully so.

She orders him to come, and Alkar obeys.


	20. Tell Me (August x Hunter)

August has spent a lifetime hiding, never feeling like they were deserving of love, a reinforced wall firmly planted so that no one can dare try to break it.

They remember him fondly, remember the way he’d curiously traced the curve of their lips in the library back home in Argyria. Both of them just shy of twenty, and he was so  _beautiful_.

August had fallen hard and with little thought.

A palm planted against the bookcase as the other twirled a slivering strand of hair around his finger, and they’d worn it shorter then, just as their Mother had ordered.

The shyest smile, and their lips had met between the stacks of magical literature and demonology.

August didn’t see him again.

There were some in between, lovers where the only memory August had of them was how they tasted like wine. The promise of affection always faded when the sun rose, and August found themselves alone once again, and again, and again…

A new start, then. Stepping into Lunaris as a stranger, and the weight is lifted from their shoulders. No one here to expect anything of them other than what they offer, what they can prove. But still, they’ve learned their lesson with love, and no they find no desire to seek it.

Then there was  _him_.

Their breath stolen when they first saw him, a smile illuminated by the sunshine that shined so brightly through Ezra’s cracked windows that day in October.

Cautious, in the way they look at him at first, but the way he looks at them in return is hard to ignore. They’ll remember that first kiss above all others, the way he stepped forward, the barest brush of his nose against theirs, his breath sweet and inviting. A hand at their waist, a soft inhale, and their lips had met under the stars.

A whisper of their name, and they lost track of time.

“Tell me what you want me to say,” he whispers, and August cannot respond.

A lesson that swiftly and sharply wipes away all the ones that had come before.

They wake in the morning expecting a cold space beside them, but now all they find is warmth. An arm over their waist, a quiet snore, and August has never been happier.

They memorise each of his scars, and he learns theirs, and every time his lips speak the words, “I love you,” August believes him.


	21. On My Knees (Finn x Hunter NSFW)

She works at his desk, a report that cannot wait, but the words don’t come easily to her tonight.

Finn sits at her feet upon a pile of mismatched cushions, a book in one hand, the other at her knee. His touch is distracting,  _cold_  against bare skin, and she wills her thoughts to return to her work, rather than the way the candlelight plays with his features.

A sigh, the quill dropped, and her hands are in her hair. “I’m too tired for this.”

Finn marks his page and sets the book aside, shifting until his chin rests upon her thigh, hands stroking her calves in a soothing glide. “Then rest. You’ve worked yourself to the bone today, you won’t forget the mission come morning.”

A kiss placed so carefully to her skin, his golden gaze catching hers from beneath dark, dipped lashes, and she can’t help but reach out and push her fingers into soft raven hair. He makes a quiet sound as fingernails scratch at his scalp, a sound that sends a chill rolling over her skin.

He notices, if the smile that crosses his lips is anything to go by, his eyes darkening as he looks up at her once more. “Tired, you say?”

Her breath hitches as those hands travel higher, carefully pushing the hem of her shirt ( _his_  shirt) up over her hips, waist. “Finnegan…”

He nips at the soft flesh of her inner thigh, her heart thrumming wildly in her chest, fingers  _tight_ in his hair. “I’m already on my knees, let me worship you.”

She laughs quietly, a broken sound as he leans in, parting her thighs, fingers moving agonizingly slowly to where she so desperately needs them to be.

“You’re a terrible distraction,” she groans, and Finn drapes one of her legs over his shoulder. He cups her ass, sliding her forward, a hungry look in his eyes as he licks his lips.

He hovers close, savouring the sight of her obvious need, and she’s so  _wet_  for him, from the simplest of touches. She squirms in her seat, a plea for him to touch, to  _taste_.

A muted growl, and Finn concedes, lightly running his tongue over her entrance, her answering moan and the way her heel digs  _hard_  into his back encouraging him closer.

He’s a master at this game, at  _teasing_ , and he laps at her slowly, agonisingly so. He splits her wide with his tongue, her hips rolling greedily, mumbled incoherencies falling from her lips.

Finn presses his lips over that aching bundle of nerves, slipping a crooked finger inside, basking in the noises she makes, in the way his name spills off her tongue like a prayer.

A second finger, and he finds a rhythm, twisting until he finds that spot that has stars bursting behind her eyelids. She drops her chin to her chest, her breath coming in pants, and she can see the way his cock strains against his underwear, the subtle buck of his hips with every noise she makes.

She traces the tip of a pointed ear, crying out as he responds in kind, burying deeper between her perfectly parted thighs. She’s  _close_ , and he knows, can hear her pulse quicken, can taste the rush of salt-sweet upon his tongue, and she falls apart willingly.

“Fuck…  _fuck,”_ she groans, stuttering a laugh, running her hand through her hair, cheeks burning, legs  _shaking_.

“Is that a request?” He says, standing slowly, wiping the wet from his chin, watching her eyes follow the lines of his body, settling where he so desperately aches for her in return.

She grins wickedly, hooking a finger in the waistband of his tented underwear, and she reels him in.


	22. In The Dark (Finn x Gabriel)

It’s been years,  _centuries_ , since he failed to save him.

He may not dream, but the memory of that night still plagues him, silver eyes wide and scared in the darkness.

A warm touch, a warmer smile, and then they both lost their lives.

He’ll never forget the stench of that alley, dumbed-down by the scent of whiskey on his breath as they kissed, of clean cotton and freshly washed hair.

His chin wavers, crimson tears rolling down his cheeks without pause. He settles in the corner and wraps his arms around his chest, and maybe, just  _maybe_ , he can keep his insides from spilling out if he holds himself tightly enough.

There was blood on his face, in his hair, and Finn didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye. The thought of him laying cold and broken,  _alone,_ until someone found him, found  _them,_ killing him all over again _._

A choked sob, and he feels weak, helpless. What would his clanmates think of him now, if they could see?

Their master reduced to rubble.

He would happily beg gods he doesn’t believe in to bring him back, but he knows it would be fruitless.

So, instead, he carries on. He cries, he  _mourns_ , but he lives another day. If ‘living’ is what you can call it.

He wishes he could have kept him safe,  _fantasies_  about it. He wishes he could have given him the life he deserved, the one they so often talked about.

He hears his voice, an echo in his mind, but the cadence is… off. Not  _quite_  him, and yet the words sting as much as they would if he were standing before him. As bright and as  _beautiful_  as he always was.

“You left me in the dark.”


	23. Sighing (August x Hunter)

The drag of a wooden chair against stone wakes them from their slumber, and the Hunter groans with the effort as they pull themselves to sit up, taking in the wholly unfamiliar room they’ve awoken in. 

Their head spins, vision unfocused, and as they press their hand to their temple, their fingers come away stained crimson. 

Ah, yes.  _That_. 

A fight, a vast miscalculation, and they’d ended up on their back staring at the stars, and then… nothing. Another lesson in being reckless, one that they anticipate they’ll be admonished for. 

There’s a dull ache in their ribs, their toes numb, and the taste of metal lingers on their tongue. Being healed with magic always has it’s perks, but with that comes one hell of a hangover. 

A heavy sigh, one that pulls them from their daze, the sound all too familiar. They smile as their eyes finally focus, finding a scowling August staring back at them, bright blue eyes heavier than usual, tireder, if such a thing is even possible. “Tell me, what’s all the sighing about?” 

A scoff, and August isn’t amused. “Well, my Hunter is a complete and utter  _idiot,_  for one,” they mutter, eyes rolling as they uncross long legs. “Are you feeling well?” Their words are clipped, a muted anger, and the Hunter can’t help but smile. 

Because behind all of that bravado is an obvious concern. They see it in the curve of August’s lips, in the way they lean forward, their fingers twitching where their hands hang between their legs, itching to reach out and  _touch_.

The Hunter attempts to sit a little straighter, wincing as a sharp pain shoots through their side. “Never better.” 

“You’re a horrible liar,” August says bitterly, moving to sit upon the edge of the bed, a hand splayed upon their chest, pressing them back against the mattress.

August’s touch lingers, the Hunter’s heart thrumming quietly beneath their palm, and August’s anger finally dissipates, their brow furrowed as they meet the Hunter’s gaze. “I worried for you,  _about_  you.” 

They stare down at the place where they’re connected, skin on skin, and they take a deep breath. They move to withdraw their hand, but the Hunter catches their wrist. 

“I’m sorry, August,” they say softly, and the quiet noise of disapproval that August makes has them smiling once again. 

“We need you, you must be more careful.” 

The Hunter tilts their head curiously, scanning August’s face, their fingers curled around their wrist, squeezing once. “ _We_?” 

They move to run their thumb over August’s knuckles, a ghost of a touch, one that soothes, reassures. Something insignificant but wholly  _intimate_. 

The way the tips of August’s ears flush perfect pink doesn’t go unnoticed. 

August clears their throat, catching the Hunter’s gaze. “ _I_  need you.” 


	24. Hotter Than Hell (Finn x Hunter NSFW)

Finn lifts him into his arms, eager legs winding around the Vampire’s waist as he walks him back towards the desk, the bed forgotten, too far. 

Hands roam under the Hunter’s shirt as they kiss, his lips tasting like whiskey, a kiss that feel like they’d both  _die_  without it, as if they require the press of tongue against tongue to survive.

Iron fingertips slide over his stomach, waist, the curve of his hips, and the Hunter breathes him in as those cool lips find the tensed column of his throat. Finn smells like fresh air, like licorice, like  _sin_.

His touch travels lower, and he quickly finds the buttons of his trousers with practiced ease, dipping inside and gripping him tightly as he drags his fangs over his skin in a teasing glide.

A sharp inhale as he finally sinks them into flesh, the ease of it startling, but the burn of it euphoric. The Hunter groans at the sight of him as Finn pulls away, crimson messy upon his lips as the Hunter reaches with a trembling hand to smear it with his thumb, the flick of Finn’s tongue against his skin setting him on fire. 

Finn reaches for the hem of his shirt, and the Hunter lifts his arms above his head, their lips meeting again the second it’s discarded. They break apart, the Hunter furious that he needs to  _breathe_  when it means missing those lips, and Finn looks at him through half-lidded eyes, the barest hint of gold burning as bright as the sun around all that black. 

His breath stutters when he tries to speak, catches in his throat as the hand that panders between his thighs begins to move in a steady glide. “Finnegan,” he warns, feeling like he’s about to crawl out of his skin with how much he  _wants him_. 

He’s met with a lopsided grin, and the Hunter is drunk at the sight of it, with the taste of him that lingers upon kiss-swollen lips. He almost hates the way his body responds to this creature, the way his cheeks heat, the way his skin tingles, the way his toes curl as he utters his name. 

Finn laughs, low and raspy as he carefully tugs away the final piece of fabric that dares to separate them. He retrieves a vial from a draw filled with worn-down pencils, generously covering his fingers and palm with oil.

There’s that delicious burn, the stretch, the stark coolness of Finn’s skin like a sweet torture as he adds a second digit, a third. He finds that place that makes the Hunter’s back arch, the one that feels like a lightening strike, like exposed nerves, like  _heaven_.    

“Please,” he says, fearing he’ll come undone too soon. “With you. With  _you_.” 

He growls at that, a guttural sound, just another thing about him that has the Hunter feeling weak, desperate. He watches as Finn takes himself in hand, already dripping with want, hard and  _pulsing_  against his broad palm as he coats himself in the remaining slick. “With me.” 

The Hunter’s breath comes in harsh pants, chest heaving,  _aching_  with longing as he stares up at Finn through long lashes, hair a sweat-slick snarl about his forehead and cheeks. Finn offers him a knowing smile, his hand beneath his knee as he tugs him closer to the edge of the desk. 

The Hunter drops his chin to his chest, fingernails biting into the meat of his palm as he curls his fists against polished wood as Finn pushes inside, filling him inch by perfect inch. They both moan loudly when he’s fully sheathed, pausing to savor it, Finn pressing a quick kiss to the two perfect punctures upon his neck as he begins to move. 

“Mine, you’re  _mine_ ,” Finn purrs, pressing forehead to forehead, gazes locked as the Hunter drags his palms over Finn’s shoulders, down his back, feeling powerful muscle shifting under cool skin. 

_Yes, I am._

He rolls his hips to meet Finn’s thrusts, ensuring he stays buried deep, never too far, Finn’s iron hand holding his hip while the other moves to his face, his thumb pressing against his bottom lip as they rock together. 

The Hunter cannot take it much longer, not as Finn quickens his thrusts, his gaze still unwavering, making his skin feel tight, hot, hot,  _hot_. He reaches between them and wraps a hand around himself, spreading the salt that’s pooled at the tip, hissing through clenched teeth when he realizes just how  _close_ he is _._ His knuckles brush against the smattering of coarse, dark hair upon Finn’s stomach, the Vampire keening quietly, a sure sign that he feels it too, that he’s ready to surrender. 

The Hunter’s heart thrums wildly in his chest, and Finn’s eyes glow dully in the darkness, his moan dying on the tip of his tongue as the Hunter surges forward to capture his lips in a hungry kiss. His cock pulses as he spills over his stomach, over Finn,  _tight_  around him and feeling every delicious inch as Finn buries deep, following him in his bliss. 

Sweeter than heaven, hotter than hell, and the Hunter whimpers as Finn kisses him carefully, his lips soft, and now he can taste the copper of his own blood on his tongue. He finds his breath, filling his lungs as Finn pulls away, leaving his thighs wet with come, eyes wild as he takes in the sight of him; his favorite part. 

He wonders what Finn sees as a smile hooks his lips, and he’s loath to move, basking in the way the Vampire presses close, a look of shameless reverence in golden eyes. “You,” he whispers, “are so beautiful.”  

The Hunter hums quietly, lost in the moment, in the afterglow. “Take me to bed,” he rasps, his voice a pathetic whisper, and he idly wonders just how long he can last without needing his fix once more.


	25. A Price (Finn x Ezra)

Ezra lays with his head resting upon a silent chest, warm limbs tangled with Finn’s cold as he traces the lines of his stomach with a curious fingertip. 

He looks up and finds gold seeking his green, a softer gaze now than the one that burned him to the core just an hour ago. “What are you thinking?” 

Finn clears his throat out of habit, not necessity, staring back up at the ceiling as he pulls Ezra a little closer, holds him a little tighter. “I was thinking that I could happily stay exactly like this for as long as I live,” he whispers, the words strained, choked. 

Ezra’s heart aches in his chest, a traitorous stutter that he knows his lover can hear. He turns his face and presses a kiss to pallid skin before he moves higher, reaches to run fingers through raven hair. “Don’t do this now, please…” 

Finn rests his hands at the base of Ezra’s spine as he adjusts above him, bodies seamed tight, and Ezra’s warmth is unmatched. Nose to nose, but Finn doesn’t smile like he usually does, his thoughts elsewhere, somewhere dark. 

 _Finnegan_ … 

“You deserve so many things I can’t give you. I’m sick with the thought that I’m holding you back. I ca–” 

Ezra takes his face in his hands, a firm hold as he dares him to catch his gaze, emerald burning brightly and edged with tears. “ _Stop_. I accepted my lot when I fell in love with you, and I do not intend to let you tear that apart when I know you love me in return.” 

Finn pushes himself up onto his elbows, holding Ezra steady in his lap, fierce,  _beautiful,_ and unwavering above him. He growls softly, a noise of disapproval rumbling in the back of his throat as he looks away from him briefly. 

There’s still a frown there between dark brows, his jaw clenched tightly shut as Ezra’s thumbs brush over sharp cheekbones. “Immortality is a gift, but it comes with a price,” Ezra says, stubborn, determined. 

Finn looks back at him slowly, fingers curling around Ezra’s wrists, his pulse fluttering in kind beneath his grip. “It is no gift to watch you die, my love.” 


	26. Énouement (August x Hunter)

_**Énouement**  - the bittersweetness of having arrived in the future, seeing how things turn out, but not being able to tell your past self_

* * *

 

August used to find a strange sort of satisfaction in their loneliness.

No one to impress, no one to  _disappoint_.

They smile to themselves as that lazy thought flutters through heir mind, and, oh, how naive they once were.

The morning light that streams through a crack in heavy curtains illuminates the dust that swirls in the air, and the street awakens below. Quiet voices and quick steps, people beginning their day as August opts to stay comfortably tangled with the warm body beside them.

August keeps themselves nestled safely in the tight grip of his arms, pressed back against a chest that rises and falls as he dreams, the rhythm of it soothing, familiar.

Calloused fingers twitch against August’s skin, the same pattern that he used to tap upon the wood of August’s desk, impatiently waiting for them to read a hastily written report.

How things have changed.

August shifts reluctantly, as quietly as possible as they attempt to disentangle themselves, but he’s already reaching for them, a lazy smile on his lips. “Where do you think you’re going?”

August groans a faux protest, returning his smile as they push long fingers into sleep-mussed hair. “Never far.”

He shakes his head. “I forbid it.”

He’s an expert in distraction, though August can do little to resist as he pulls them close, a hand at their hip, another pressed flat against their lower back.

August buries their face in the warm crook of his neck, breathing him in before they press their lips to the hollow of his throat, a smile curling against sleep warm skin. “You  _forbid_  it, hm?”

Those hands run in gentle circles over their bare skin, and all it takes is a calculated tilt of his chin for their lips to meet.

It’s lazy, slow, his tongue working its way into August’s mouth. He tastes like last nights red wine, and August savours it, humming contentedly.

They move as one, in-sync, August shifting into his lap, Arms lazily draped around his neck. His fingers count the knobs of their spine, and August swallows his laugh as they shudder beneath his touch.

The kiss grows into something fierce in the simple way it always does, and they’re  _hungry_  for one another even after all these years.

They break apart to catch a breath, and then there’s that  _smile_.

The smile that unmade August that day in Ezra’s shop, the one that held a promise of a life they could finally be content with, of a life filled with  _love_  and mornings just like this.


	27. Eunoia (Finn x Hunter)

They haven’t slept, the sun rising and setting beyond the oblivious depths of the Catacombs as they get lost beneath silk sheets.

Tangled limbs, a welcome cold against overheated skin, no telling where he ends and they begin.

They talk in whispers, soft smiles and sparkling eyes as they lose themselves in one another.

Tales of a life that’s spanned centuries, of heartbreak and true love, of beauty and pain.

The Hunter could listen to him speak for days, an unbroken silence as Finn plays with a soft lock of their hair, a quirk in his brow as their hands begin to wander.

“You asked me to talk until you fall asleep,” he purrs, dark lashes dipping as their touch trails lower, toying with the edge of the sheet that barely covers his hips. “ _This_  is not sleeping.”

The Hunter swallows loudly, throat tight as they let their gaze brush over him like a caress. They count every scar, faded traces of his long lost humanity.

He laughs, a warm and comforting rasp as they move, settling above him, legs bracketing his hips. They lean close, moving their nose against his. “I’m not  _tired_.”

Finn searches their features for the briefest of moments, a hand reaching to curl at the nape of their neck before he’s surging forward, crushing his lips against theirs.

He rolls them without warning, with startling ease, and the Hunter winds their legs around his waist, feeling the fine silk twisting beneath them. Greedy hands roam their chest, hips, thighs, the chill of him ensuring they truly don’t wish to succumb to sleep anytime soon.

They whisper his name, breathless as they speak it out loud, even more so as it echoes in their mind, a prayer repeated.

“Tell me,” Finn whispers, a kiss pressed to their throat, one that lingers as he breathes them in, feeling their pulse quicken against parted lips.

“I want you,” they say, his lips finding theirs, and they’ve lost count of how many times they’ve done this.

A growl, a quiet thing, but they feel it right down to their bones. “How much?”

Their fingers twist in raven hair, a tentative tug before Finn kisses them again, tongue and teeth, an eager push and pull. “More than  _anything_.”

They darent stop touching each other as they seek their bliss, the achingly gentle rock of their hips, rhythmic as Finn watches the careful flutter of their lashes, the flush of pleasure that sweeps across their cheeks.

He smiles when they groan, fingers clawing at his chest, and deep is never  _deep_  enough, and he’s never  _close_  enough.

Never enough full stop.

He takes their hand, bringing it to his lips, his pace unfaltering as he presses a kiss to their wrist. A teasing swipe of his tongue followed by a scrape of fang, a murmured, “Just a taste,” as he breaks the skin with practised ease.

They watch as crimson coats his tongue, his lips. He’s  _beautiful_ , and they are  _his_ , that familiar rush of euphoria prickling across sweat slick skin.

His eyes are bright in the darkness, and he catches their careful whimper with another kiss as they fall apart beneath him, Finn never far behind.


	28. Redamancy (August x Hunter)

**_Redamancy_ ** _\- the act of loving in return_

* * *

 

They stand at his door feeling like a fool, drawn here by something they can’t fathom. An invisible force that tethers them to this man, a desperate need to look, to touch, to  _feel_.

He appears, summoned by their knocking, dressed in nothing but loose trousers and a wide-eyed gaze.

 _Beautiful_.

“Tell me to go, and I shall. But I…”

He hushes them with a finger pressed to open lips, shakes his head. “No,  _stay_.”

He pulls them inside with fingers curled at their wrist, the door closing with a click behind them. He tucks their hair behind their ear, trails his touch downward over cheek and jaw.

He’s  _warm_ , just as August remembers, and the Hunter steps forward, closing the infintisemal gap between them, hands finding hips.

“I want to kiss you,” he says quietly, hoarsely.

Heat prickles across August’s skin, such simple words setting them alight, and they’re not sure they’ll survive if he follows through.

The Hunter closes his eyes, and he’s so  _close_ , breath warm upon August’s skin, noses brushing. “August…”

“Yes,” they breathe. “Kiss me.”

They plant their palms over sharp shoulder blades, travelling down his spine, feeling muscle shift beneath skin.

The first press of their lips is light, quick, explorative. They’ve done this before, but never like this, never with the night stretched before them, never anywhere other than August’s office, a secretive thing.

Fingers drift over their arms, over the silk of their shirt before a hand cups their jaw, lips wet before they go in for another.

He’s giving them room to breathe, a pause between each, still holding them tighter, closer, hands wandering. “I want to touch you.”

The quiet noise that leaves August’s lips is one they’re sure they’ve never made before. A quiet longing, a  _plea_. “Then touch me.”

He starts with the clasps of their shirt, pushing the fabric back off their shoulders, letting it flutter to the floor, hands finding newly bared skin. Another kiss as those hands travel low,  _lower_.

Eyes closed, and August drowns in him. Touch, taste, smell,  _all_  of it. Forehead knocks against forehead, and the Hunter’s next question is cut-off by eager words.

“Yes,” August says. “ _Yes_ , to all of it. Anything.”

A kiss, his question answered, warm, wet, urgent. He traces the line of their ribs, feeling them move beneath curious fingertips as August breathes,  _pants_ , and they never want to be found if this is what being lost feels like.

He moves forward, bodies seamed tight, their back against the wall and his hands needy in their hair.

“August,” he breathes, again, again,  _again_.

August says their name in return, more than a prayer as it rolls off their tongue, and they  _love_ him.


	29. Gloaming (Finn x Hunter)

_**Gloaming**  - defined as twilight and dusk; the day’s end, the glittery, transient echo where time and nature meet_

* * *

Finn watches it from the entrance to his tomb, the way the sky turns from orange, to purple, to black. 

That moment where the sun tucks itself safely beyond the horizon is his favorite, the moment where he’s  _free._ When he can pretend that all is well, all is normal. 

The Hunter waits for him outside the tavern, and Finn swears that each time he sees him he finds something else to be enamored with.

Another freckle upon the bridge of his nose, curves and hard lines he needs to trace with inquisitive fingertips, a darker blush, a brighter smile. 

He lifts his hand to his lips, kisses his knuckles. “How about a walk?”

The Hunter clears his throat, and there’s that blush, dusky rose. “I think it’s going to rain.”

Finn’s lips quirk into a sly smile as they lace their fingers together, the Hunter’s inimitable warmth seeping into cold skin. “Then we’ll get wet.”

They walk through the market, the stalls sparkling in the darkness, the smell of salt filling their nostrils as they draw closer to the docks. They sit where they can watch the waves lazily slosh against the shore, quiet in their contemplation.

He looks out over the water, but Finn looks at  _him_ , and he’s smiling in that way he does. The way that would surely make Finn’s heart stutter if it could, that would bring a flush to his cheeks.

He brings something bright, something new and  _hopeful_. 

A chance to start again.

He’s caught as the Hunter turns to meet his gaze, fingers squeezing tight where they’re still entwined, safe in Finn’s lap. “It’s nice here,” he whispers, voice hoarse, and he swallows thickly. 

His next words die on his tongue as Finn places his iron hand upon his face, thumb moving slowly and softly over his cheekbone. His touch is cold, but warmth still blooms in it’s wake. 

Finn feels the shuddering need in him, the unapologetic  _want_ , a perfect mirror to his own. The Hunter exhales quietly, closing his eyes as he so carefully tilts his face upwards, and Finn tastes mint on his tongue as he loses himself in his kiss. 


	30. Kuebiko (Piper)

_**Kuebiko**  - a state of exhaustion inspired by acts of senseless violence_

* * *

 

Piper shoves the Vampire, staggering it, sinking her blade into it’s middle. It doesn’t flinch, that vivid crimson gaze finding hers in the darkness, and she sees a flash of bloodied white when it smiles.

The human sobs from behind an oak tree, but Piper must ignore it, must ignore the desperate pleas of, “ _I beg you to_ s _pare him, I love him._ ”

Love.

A deadly weakness, a  _disease_.

She plants her boot against his chest and pulls her dagger free, the sick,  _wet_  sound of it all too familiar. Her concentration narrows, and she unsheathes her second blade.

Claws find her shoulder as he lunges forward, his fangs bared, and she’s certain that any humanity he may have once had has been lost for good.

He’s nothing but a walking corpse, driven mad by thirst, no sire present to contain him.

He’s a liability, and Piper has a job to do.

They circle each other, and he’s clumsy, all fang and no bite, and he screams as sharp silver burns the flesh at his throat.

Piper screams with him, adrenaline coursing through her veins, and she doesn’t stop, not even when he digs his fingers into her forearms in a desperate final attempt to stop her from cutting his head from his body.

She swipes at his legs, and they both drop to the forest floor, Piper getting the leverage she needs to complete her task.

His body turns to nothing but a messy pile of flesh and blood, and the scream from his lover is deafening.

Piper pokes at the shredded cloth of her shirt, eyeing her wounds, the deep red that oozes from them.

“Sorry for your loss,” she mutters, her vision blurred, her breath unsteady.

She leaves the woman in the clearing.


	31. Énouement (Finn x Hunter)

The Hunter doesn’t know how they got here, wrapped up and being kissed  _hard_  by a powerful Vampire who makes their heart stutter.

From feeling alone and wandering, looking for their next kill, signing off yet another tedious and wholly pointless report.

Destined to repeat both their mistakes and their triumphs until eventually a creature would get the upper hand.

It’s inevitable for their kind, or, it  _was_.

Now they’re not so sure.

The kisses Finn offers tonight are slow, languid, but somehow almost expertly crafted in a way that doesn’t quite feel real to them.

Not that any of this could ever feel  _real_.

There’s a calculated pattern in every dip of his head, in the sweep of his tongue, something beautifully profound about the way he holds their face in his hands.

He’s patient where the Hunter is eager, the lingering taste of ’ _I love you,_ ’ on his tongue.

“Look at me,” Finn says, iron fingers dancing delicately over the back of their hand, a cool thumb running over their knuckles.

Then, there’s that look, the one that makes them feel as though they truly could love him forever, beyond that. The thought of becoming one of the walking dead and spending an eternity at this man’s side turning into the most tempting of proposals.

The impulse to touch him is magnetic, an impenetrable urge, and they hum their approval as Finn reaches up and skims his knuckles along the curve of their jawline, lashes long and low as he presses his thumb to the dip in their bottom lip.

This yearning that flickers between them isn’t sensible, but it’s constant, and the Hunter submits to it all too willingly.

They kiss Finn back as he leans in for another, running their tongue over a sharp fang, prompting Finn to lick back, to kiss  _harder_.

Before they know it he has them panting, clawing at him, the wild that lingers inside them bubbling shamelessly to the surface.

Finn reaches for their shirt and pulls it overhead with rehearsed fluidity, watching it fall to their feet, kicking it aside with hunger burning in golden eyes.

He bends down to kiss their shoulder, tongue tasting overheated skin, the salt of them.

They know he’s already registered the way their pulse quickens, the way their cheeks darken, the way they pant and consider begging him to  _end this_.

The Hunter murmurs his name, whispers it like a prayer, each syllable holding a thousand requests, and Finn smiles, knowing he’d agree to every single one.

_If only you knew, young Hunter, that one day you’d love someone so fiercely that you would welcome the death you so dreaded._


	32. Billet-doux (August x Hunter)

_**Billet-doux** \- a love letter_

* * *

 

The letter waits for them upon their desk, the red wax seal giving them pause, and all others are brushed aside as they eagerly tear open the envelope.

They smile as they read their name, the Hunter’s handwriting so easily recognizable, all those reports August had read over the years making sure of that.

They take a seat and begin to read, their letters always starting the same way.

_Hello, my love._

It’s strange how a few words on a page can make goosebumps spread over their skin, can make them smile wider than anyone else ever has, ever  _could_.

They’ve written of lazy mornings to come, promises of kisses and the finest red wine Eskria has to offer.

They tell August of new scars and bruises for them to discover, of an altercation with a particularly nasty coven of Witches that left their hair white for a week.

August aches for them, but the days are passing quickly, and soon they’ll be together again.

For  _good_ , this time.

They bring the parchment to their nose, a deep inhale, catching the familiar scent of them, a smile curling at their lips.

Their quill shakes as they write their response, each word lovingly crafted, and August is filled with joy to know it’s the last love letter they’ll ever need to write.


	33. Opia (Omen x Hunter)

_**Opia**  - the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable_

* * *

 

Omen shifts closer to them, the dull glow of the lights that drape across Ezra’s bookshelves bathing the Demon in soft copper and purple hues, making him look even more otherworldly, like a dream.

“Here,” he says quietly, patiently. “Sound it out again.”

A blackened fingertip follows the foreign word, and the Hunter’s tongue feels thick in their mouth as they carefully sound it out.

“Xao… xaouqi, uhh…  _nuh_?”

Omen’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs, and he covers his mouth with his hand as a smile curls at his lips, a habit he’s formed to hide his teeth.

The Hunter reaches for his wrist, gently pulling his hand away, and Omen remembers he’s safe here, with them. That he doesn’t need to hide.

He clears his throat quietly, cheeks kissed pink as he shyly drops his gaze back to the page. “Again,” he nods, finger returning to the letters.

“Xaouqi… muh. Xaouqimuh!”

“Esaz! You did it,” he chuckles, that charming flush darkening as chestnut eyes rise to meet theirs, smile fading, something else taking its place.

It looks a lot like wonder.

“Xaouqimuh,” he whispers, and though the Hunter doesn’t know what word they’ve learned, they think they might be able to guess.

They reach up, fingers curling at Omen’s jaw, and the way he looks at them has their breath catching in their throat.

Like they’ve known him for a lifetime, more.

Like they’re the only thing that matters.

“Xaouqimuh…  _beautiful_ ,” they whisper, and the answer is written all over Omen’s face.

“Yes, beautiful,” Omen rasps, and their gaze only breaks when their lips meet.


	34. Rubatosis (August x Hunter)

**_Rubatosis_ ** _- the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat_

* * *

 

He wakes slowly, pain hot at his gut, shooting straight to rib and chest. There’s sun streaming through curtains far too expensive to be seen in the tavern, and he registers that he’s not in his own bed.

He takes a deep breath, eyes thick with sleep and head pounding with what is most definitely the endings of a concussion, and he finds August.

Sky blue eyes flick upwards as they hear his gentle moan of discomfort, and they rise from their desk. The Hunter winces, teeth clenched as they pull themselves up, and August is at their side in a flash, guiding them gently, but their gaze is stern.

“How are you feeling?” they ask, dark brows drawn together, and the Hunter swears he’s dreaming as warm fingers brush hair from his face.

“I… I’m fine. I feel good,” he lies, and August’s frown only grows as they take a seat on the mattress.

“That was close,” they say, and they look tired, more so than usual. Pale skin, purpling beneath their eyes, and the Hunter feels guilty.

He reaches out carefully, placing his hand in theirs, and August curls long fingers over his,  _squeezing_ , their thumb running tenderly over bruised knuckles.

“You scared me,” they whisper, eyes closed tight, tight,  _tight._  “I… I thought I’d lost you.”

There’s pain behind those words, and the Hunter sees a vulnerability behind that perpetually steely gaze, something softer, a longing. August swallows loudly, seemingly trying to find the words, looking down at their clasped hands.

“The only thing that ran through my mind was that I was too much of a coward to tell you all the things I’ve longed to since the very moment we met. Selfish, I suppose.”

His heart leaps in his chest, and there’s that ache again, the one that manifests each time their gazes lock, the ache that sings only for August, and he wonders if they can hear it as it rattles loudly in the cage of his ribs.

“August….”

He reaches out, a touch to their cheek, the pain in his side still searing, but it’s nothing compared to that ache, the longing. He curls his fingers at the nape of their neck, pulling them close, moving to meet them somewhere in the middle.

He presses his lips to theirs for the briefest moment before they slowly part, August frantically searching his face for something, a falter, a regret, but all they find is adoration.

A moment of silence that feels like forever spreads between them, broken only by their laboured breathing, both rendered speechless from a simple thing like a kiss.

The Hunter exhales sharply, forehead pressed to forehead, and August smiles back, a tear trickling down lightly flushed cheeks as they claim his lips again.

Something fiercer, crushing,  _beautiful._


	35. Skulduggery (Finn x Hunter NSFW)

**_Skulduggery_ ** _\- devious behaviour_

* * *

 

As he sinks deeper into the catacombs every inch of him is telling him to run,  _screaming_  at him to leave, to change his mind.

But how could he now he’d had a taste? How could he knowing that golden eyes and the promise of another kiss like the one that had shaken him to his core awaited him?

The kiss he hasn’t stopped feeling since their lips parted, his toes curling in his boots at the mere thought of it.

He closes his eyes, grip tightening around the flaming torch that lights his way. He opens his eyes slowly, unwillingly, taking in the walls made of bones, the coffins that protrude from broken stone and dirt, and he comes to the conclusion that he’s lost his mind. 

He knocks on the door, the first one on the right, just like Finn had told him, and his heart hammers against his ribcage as if it’s trying to break free.

“ _Shit_.”

With an ominous creak it slides open, and the stale stench is overpowered by something sweeter, something inviting.

“You came,” Finn smiles, illuminated by candlelight that flickers softly behind him, more beautiful than the last time, if such a thing were even possible.

The Hunter stares like a lackwit before the torch falls from numb fingers, all reason and logic forgotten as he crushes his lips against Finn’s.

He savours the taste of him as strong arms wrap around him, tongue dancing around tongue in a slick, sinful glide. A groan manifests in the back of his throat as Finn lifts him with ease, kicking the door shut behind him as he walks him back towards the bed.

“You want this?” Finn whispers as they part, the Hunter working with nimble fingers to untie his shirt, unlace his trousers.

“I do,” he whimpers, sounding wholly pathetic, too far gone to ever turn back, running a hand down the newly bared skin of Finn’s chest.

“A bad choice,” Finn says with a smile, a flash of fang, and it’s almost a threat, but it makes every hair on the Hunter’s body rise, makes his trousers tighten and his legs  _shake_.

“I’m good at those,” he says hoarsely, the words breaking and crackling in his mouth.

Finn laughs, and it sounds sexier than it has any right to, everything about him making the Hunter crazy. Turned on and turned around, and Finn presses him back against dark sheets, cool lips at his throat. “Do you like this shirt?”

The Hunter runs his hands over broad shoulders, down his back, spine, arching up, up,  _up_ against him. “I… do what you want.  _Please_ , just…”

_Fuck me. Take me. Make me yours. I’m yours._

Finn growls at that, the thought loud, louder than  _anything_ , and with a swift flick of deft hands the Hunter’s clothing is torn from his body. “I plan to.”

The Hunter pushes clumsy fingers into Finn’s waistband, pushing his trousers down only as much as is needed, reaching to feel him thick and hard in his palm.

Finn reaches into his nightstand, uncorking the stopper from the small glass jar he retrieves, coating his fingers in slick. He watches the Hunter’s face intently as he brushes over his entrance, wrapping his free hand around himself, stroking to the sound of the Hunter falling apart beneath him.

Both of them are harder than they have any right to be, and Finn’s fingers move slowly, circling before he’s pushing one inside. The stretch is delicious, feels  _right,_ and the Hunterwhispers Finn’s name on a shuddering exhale as another digit joins the first.

Finn holds him tightly, iron fingers digging into his hip as he spreads him apart, his cock replacing those curled digits, pressing at his slick entrance. He clenches his jaw as he pushes inside, moaning as the Hunter pushes his fingers into dark hair.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hisses, the word harsh,  _fast_ , and he begins to move.

There’s a closeness between them that’s undeniable, a connection the Hunter could never have dreamed up. Finn’s kisses bruise him, and the Hunter wants more, wants to be marked up and never, ever forget this. If it’s the only time, the last time, he wants to remember, to feel Finn for  _days._

One hand moves between them, wraps around his cock, his thumb finding the wetness that pools at the tip, sliding it down his shaft before he begins to stroke. “Look at me.”

Every thrust makes his toes curl, and though he doesn’t think he’d survive looking up into those golden eyes, he submits willingly. “Faster.”

Finn’s answering growl as their eyes lock is something inherently primal, and he moves faster, pushing as deep as he can, tracing the point of a sharp fang with his tongue as he smiles down at him. “You feel so good. Do you know how good you feel, Hunter?”

He shakes his head, lost in the fierceness of the Vampire’s blown-black gaze, in the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, grabbing a fistful of Finn’s hair to reel him close, muffling his answering moan with a kiss.

_Close. Close. Close._

Finn lightly nips at his bottom lip, the smallest droplet of blood falling to his tongue, and the Hunter comes, spilling over Finn’s expertly curled fist as his ragged groan his greedily swallowed whole.

Finn follows him, every muscle wound tight, sinew shifting under pale skin as he pulls away, painting the Hunter’s thighs, warm and  _wet_.

He shifts close, wrapping the Hunter in strong arms, burying his face in the crook of his neck, and it’s intimate, comforting.

Not at all what he expected.

Finn holds him with a certain fierceness, breathing in the scent of him, the scent of  _sex_. “Will you stay?” He whispers, breaking the silence.

The Hunter smiles so wide that his cheeks hurt, burning from the flush that spreads from his cheeks to the top of his chest.

He feels alive, invigorated,  _deviant_ , and he laughs as Finn kisses the hollow of his throat, tasting the sweat on his skin.

“I will.”


	36. Pluviophile (August x Hunter)

**_Pluviophile_ ** _\- any organism that thrives in conditions of heavy rainfall; one who loves rain, a rain-lover_

* * *

 

The rain had been unexpected, just like almost everything else in Lunaris.

They stand on the edge of the dock, August with their hand extended, letting water gather in their palm.

The Hunter watches quietly, and he’s never seen August smile like that before. It’s this soft, almost nostalgic thing, both beautiful and disarming at the same time.

“We’ll freeze to death,” he says, stepping closer, placing his hand upon August’s back, fabric soaked to the skin beneath his palm.

August turns to look at him, raindrops on long lashes as they blink. “It reminds me of home, of Argyria. The weather was always awful like this there,” they laugh, a scoff. “Worse than here, if you can believe that.”

“I used to despise it, despise the fact that it made him… made  _Ezra_  thrive. His magic.”

The Hunter steps closer and wraps an arm around their shoulder. “Do you miss it? Home?”

August looks down at the water in their palm with a smile, the faintest flicker of magic sparking to life as their eyes glow a vivid violet.

The water ripples, rises, then dissipates, turns to vapour. They curl their fingers into a fist. “I do not. There’s nothing there for me, there never was.”

Dark curls of hair stick to their cheeks, and August leans close, brushes their nose against his before lip finds lip.

A kiss that  _burns_ , saps the cold from his skin and ignites a fire deep in his gut.

“Im quite fond of the rain now,” they whisper, rain still falling heavy around them, upon them.

He kisses August again.


	37. Abditory (Ezra)

_**Abditory**  - a hiding, safe place to disappear _

* * *

 

His father had always taught him to be kind.

Here he started out alone,  _scared_ , but determined. He’d been blessed with magic, and he’d seen so many use theirs to cause pain and suffering, but Ezra was a healer.

The house was a shell when he arrived, but soon he made it a home, a sanctuary.

Trinkets brought with him from Argyria, meaningful things that he couldn’t bear to leave behind. Crystals that whisper to him in the darkness, dried flowers from forbidden forests, herbs that heal and others that hurt.

He feels the spread of warmth, his magic seeping into stone and wood, surrounding him and keeping him  _safe._

The little shop with the magelight lantern and the boy with emeralds in his eyes soon becomes a place for those that others cast aside.

A broken Vampire, a lost Demon, a wounded Wolf, all of them finding things in him that they never thought they could.

Love, friendship, comfort.

Ezra is a healer.


	38. Redamancy (Piper x Hunter)

**_Redamancy_ ** _- act of loving in return_

* * *

 

The sun rises before they reach the town, their hunt lasting all night, all the way through to morning.

Tired and bruised, but they still smile.

Piper groans as she pulls off her boots, wiggling bare toes in the long grass. He wonders if she even feels the stones and sticks that litter the forest floor.

Judging by her satisfied grin and the lack of falter in her steps, he determines that she doesn’t.

He loves how happy she is out here, away from suffocating narrow streets, from crooked stone and from  _people._ Piper thrives in nature, and he’s never loved her more.

She stops suddenly in front of him, a palm at his chest, her boots thrown to the ground. She tugs her hair free of its messy bun, chestnut waves cascading over her shoulders, down her back.

“Follow my lead,” she says, a wicked glint in her eyes that makes his heart race as she reaches for the the straps of his armour with deft hands. Nimble fingers pry off all that scratched, bloodied metal, and the pile of discarded gear in the grass grows.

He raises an eyebrow as she takes his hand, reaching up to ruffle his hair with the other. Piper rises up onto the balls of her feet to press her lips to his in the quickest of kisses. “Do you love me?”

He sways towards her, chasing the kiss as she pulls away. “I do.”

She brushes her nose against his, a  _tease_  as she whispers a raspy, “Good,” before she’s turning and tugging him towards a break in the trees.

He follows without question, jumps without hesitation, and as they break the surface of the hidden lake, he finds Piper smirking before him.

“Love you too,” she winks, cackling as he grabs her, and not even the ice-cold water could sully her warmth.


	39. Hiraeth (Finn)

_**Hiraeth**  - _ _the homesickness for a home you can never return to; a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past_

* * *

Sometimes Finn feels like as much of a ghost as Gabriel, this quiet being that haunts the catacombs, longing desperately for something he can never get back. 

One hundred, three hundred, five hundred years,  _more_ , and he never lets himself forget. Home was never a place to an orphan like him, it was a person, and his absence continues to feel like this physical thing that weighs him down.

It started in his chest, the faintest flower of a thing until it grew and  _grew_ , twisting into vines, poison in his veins, blooming into something bigger and more violent each time he thinks of him.

He often wonders that if you were to cut him open, would you be able to pry it out? 

He’s cursed to forever remember both the bliss of their first kiss and the wet of the blood that coated his palm as he lay dying. The heated declarations of love and that final, gasping breath. 

Staring at the cracked brick of their old home could never compare to the memory of his warmth, of kiss-swollen lips pressed against his own, of the sound of his laughter or the sight of his lashes dancing in his dreams.

Home was not a place, it was a person, and it was  _him_. 


	40. What Would You Say (Piper x Hunter)

A smile spreads across his face as he watches Piper slide her whetstone along the blade of her dagger, a question that may or may not constitute him pushing his luck on the tip of his tongue. “What would you say if I told you that you’re beautiful? Hypothetically, of course.”

The gliding stops, and Piper raises an eyebrow, the barest of smiles twitching at the edge of her lips as she tries (and fails) to stifle it. “ _Hypothetically_ , hm?”

Their flirtations have been mild, something that could easily be missed if he wasn’t looking so  _bloody_  hard.

She turns the weapon in her hand, inspecting its shine as silver catches in the sunlight. “What about you?”

Now it’s his eyebrow that’s rising, words a stutter as they fall from his lips. “I…  _what_?”

She rolls ocean-coloured eyes, squaring up to him, tilting her chin defiantly and spelling her words out slowly. “What would  _you_  say if I told you that  _you_  are beautiful, Hunter?”

She presses her hand to his chest, and he knows she’s feeling the quicksilver thrum of his heart beneath those warm fingertips. “I would say… I know.”

Her gaze widens for a moment, and then she’s throwing her head back and laughing. It’s loud, utterly obnoxious, and he doesn’t think he’s ever heard a more wonderful sound in his measly existence.

Piper holds herself so tightly, wound like a knot, and it’s nothing short of a privilege to see her unfurl, however brief it may be.

“Funny,” she whispers, the lightest flush blossoming upon freckled cheeks. Hand still warm upon his chest as she leans in and brushes her lips against his.

It’s quick, a ghost of a kiss, and it lingers even as she steps away.

“You are, though,” she mutters, taking a seat, the rhythmic glide of the whetstone resuming.

He clears his throat, caught in a daze, just  _caught_  full-stop. “I am what?”

Long lashes kiss the tops of her cheeks as she drops her gaze, a smirk hooking the corner of ruby coloured lips. “Beautiful,” she says.

He stands still, stuck in the spot where she left him, reaching up to brush his fingertips against his lips.


	41. No Speech Left in Me (August x Hunter)

They find themselves with company on this stormy night, the Hunter having taken shelter in their home as rain clouds blacken the sky before the sun has the chance to set.

The fire is fierce in the hearth, her clothes soaked through, and August offers her a warm towel to dry her dripping hair.

They can’t help but be fascinated by her as they take a seat by her side, closer than they would sit near any other, drawn into her orbit without much thought.

Her teeth chatter, her cheeks and the tip of her nose kissed a perfect pink, and all August wants to do is wrap her up, hold her close and let her steal their warmth.

“Would you like a glass of wine?”

She folds the now-damp towel and sets it in her lap, and the way she edges an inch or two closer doesn’t go amiss. “I’m okay, thank you. I’ll head out as soon as the rain settles, I’d hate to disturb your evening.”

August scoffs, relaxing and leaning back against soft cushions. “Nonsense, it’s fine. I was only planning on overworking myself until I passed out at my desk, you’re giving me a night off.”

She smiles at that, the flush on her cheeks no longer just from the cold.

Hours pass by, and the rain never settles, wind hammering against the windowpanes, shaking the door in its sill.

The Hunter is tired, long lashes fluttering closed, her head coming to rest against August’s shoulder as she surrenders herself to dreams.

August tries to ignore the way her hair tickles their cheek, the way her lips are pursed and full, the way she feels so  _right_  pressed close like this.

Her hand falls to their arm, and with a quiet murmer she nuzzles closer, her nose cold against their throat.

August listens to the sound of her soft inhale, the stofter exhale, looking down at her and feeling a certain fondness blooming in their chest.

She looks peaceful like this, nothing like the fierce warrior they know that she can be, the stubborn woman that they’ve grown to miss whenever she’s not near.

A smile curls at her lips, a subtle thing, and as she quietly whispers their name, they reach out to brush a lock of rain-curled hair from her face.

“Rest well, Hunter,” they smile, resting their head atop hers, finally letting sleep claim them.


	42. Insufferable (August x Hunter)

August shines brightly in the moonlight, wrapped in sparkling stars as darkness drapes over them both. 

There’s a blanket around their shoulders, and they let the warmth from the wine seep into their bones. The Hunter looks at them, and he catches them smiling, August trying to hide it with a hand, but there’s no hiding the bright of those eyes. 

“What are you smiling about,” he queries, leaning closer, dipping his chin to catch that gaze, to see pink creeping over pale cheeks. 

August shrugs, lips still curled at the corners. “Absolutely nothing that concerns you,” they lie, squeezing his hand where their fingers are twined together beneath another blanket draped across their laps. 

He refuses to yield, nuzzling their cheek with a cold nose, laughing as they try to swat him away. “ _August_ , tell me…” 

He presses a kiss to the corner of their mouth, hearing that unmistakable hitch of breath, the low and keening whimper that threatens to bubble in their throat. 

“Insufferable, that’s what you are,” they sigh, turning their head, and the kiss that follows is fierce, deep, makes them sway against one another. 

A hand at their jaw, cupping the curve of it, his thumb finding the warmth of their skin. “You look beautiful under the stars,” he whispers, resting forehead against forehead. 

“Funny,” August smirks, eyes fluttering closed. “I was thinking the same thing about you.” 


	43. You Burn Me (Omen x Hunter)

Lightning splits the sky, and blackened fingertips are a ghost upon their skin as thunder follows, rain pouring from overfull clouds, gooseflesh blooming as the droplets soak them to the core. 

Omen smiles softly, cupping his hands to their face where they find refuge beneath a broken wooden hut, only it’s roof and two walls remaining. 

Their teeth chatter loudly, and the Demon weaves his warmth into skin, flesh, bone, moving closer until they can feel his heart thrum in the glowing cage of his ribs. 

Nose to nose, a look passing between them, a stuttered exhale of his name as his thumb sweeps across reddening cheeks. He kisses them without hesitation, a fierce thing, and now all the Hunter can feel is the heat of his lips upon theirs, the biting cold forgotten.  

There’s a moan in their throat that he’s eager to catch with the tip of his tongue as he holds them ever closer, the rain growing wilder with the wind, the forest unforgiving as it creaks and dares to disturb them. 

They break apart, their breathing low and labored as hands move over their back, his reverence unmatched.

Rain seeps through the cracks as they collide again, and though they both feel it on their skin, they truly only feel each other. 


	44. No Defense (Finnzra x Hunter)

Nothing could possibly soothe the desperate longing of wanting to see them, to  _feel_  them, to be by their side, and each time the sun sets Finn finds his way into warm arms. 

Whenever they’re together a slow,  _dull_  ache settles in the pit of his stomach at the realization that they will not be with him forever. 

So he savors it, savors them, because human life is short and cruel, and if he can love them even for the shortest time then he’ll do it right. 

Finn is cold but they are  _warm,_ and theendless touching sates him, the heat, the stuttered groans, the careful arch of their spines as they move as one. 

Damn everything else, because  _this_  is all he wants to do for the rest of his endless life.

A torrent of desire echoes in his mind, two voices sighing his name, lips wet and eager against his skin. Toes that curl and fingers that fist crumpled sheets, and Finn commits it all to memory. 

He counts the freckles that sweep across Ezra’s nose, the dusting that trails over his shoulders and the tops of strong arms, and russet skin glows softly in the flickering candlelight. He’ll never get over the green of his eyes, the way they rival the shine of even the brightest emerald, and sometimes Finn could swear he holds the galaxy in that gaze when he looks at him. 

The Hunter is just as beautiful, an abundance of silvering scars a map upon soft skin that Finn traces with tongue and teeth, and nobody could ever quench his thirst quite like they can. Their blood is an elixir, the sweetest nectar he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting as fangs find supple flesh. 

His lovers drive him to madness, an unbidden,  _aching_  desire that nothing else could ever rival. To hold, to kiss, to fuck, to _love_ , a raw and desperate need that sings inside him and tells him to never let them go. 

So he holds them tighter, loves them harder, and he asks the universe to capture this moment and every one that comes after so that he may never forget them. 


	45. Falling (Piper x Hunter)

The Hunt is the only thing she believes in.

Protecting those who cannot protect themselves, eliminating the Creatures who linger in the darkness that have haunted her since she was a child.

She refuses to doubt herself although everyone she’s ever met does, refuses to falter when everyone seems to want to watch her fail.

Piper had the one thing she cared about the most stripped from her, and she feels like she’s been skinned alive. Sinew and skin, flesh and bone, and Piper is laid bare,

She didn’t expect to fall in love.

The person who took her place, the one who she longed to despise just for daring to listen to an order they cannot refuse, and Piper is  _scared_.

The Hunter holds her carefully, presses a kiss to her lips and whispers words of adoration, of comfort. She tells her she’s beautiful despite all of her scars, despite the frown that furrows her brow and the snarl that twists ruby lips.

They’d find each other in the blackest forest, drowning in the bodies of those they’ve slain with a smile and bloodied fingers.

Everything Piper has been through has lead her here, the Hunter tells her, and she almost believes it when she thinks how it helped them collide.

Her Hunter.

Piper wears her shame with pride when she stands by her side, and if anything were to break her, they’ll break together.

There’s no longer such a thing as being alone in the darkness.


	46. Because I Prayed (August x Hunter)

August smiles softly as a curled finger grazes their cheek, catching tears that don’t fall,  _won’t_  fall.

A hand at the nape of their neck, and August goes willingly. They wrap their arms around his waist, fabric soft beneath softer fingertips, feeling sinew shifting under skin.

There’s that feeling akin to the way their body buzzes when they cast a spell, that dull, delicious  _thrum_  of awareness blooming whenever they touch him.

August has been starved of this kind of affection for so long, void of that gentle touch that comes so easily to so many. They’ve felt passion, lust, longing, but always shamelessly wanted  _more_.

Wanted this.

_I asked the sky to send me someone like you._

They drown in it, closing their eyes as they allow themselves this little luxury, telling themselves that they deserve these hands, this reverence.

“August,” he whispers, a smile in his voice, but August cannot look, cannot lose this cherished moment in pretty eyes.

Instead they hum a quiet noise, one that tells him they’re listening, but that they’re lost.

In him, in them.

It’s different, now. The  _Hunter_  is different, is change, something beautiful that came to banish their loneliness, and August lingers in his arms for as long as he’ll allow.

They bury their face in the crook of his neck, fingers fisting cotton, his hands in their hair.

_I asked the sky to send me someone like you, and he delivered._


	47. I Crave You (Finn x Hunter)

Finn stands outside the White Wolf and stares up at the stars, wishing the numbness he feels was thanks to the impressive amount of whiskey he’d just consumed.

Alas, life isn’t  _quite_  so kind to the walking dead.

He feels relief when a familiar scent floods his senses, a figure appearing at the edge of his vision.

The Hunter stops when he notices him, a wry smile curling at pretty lips. “A Vampire lurking in the shadows? That’s very stereotypical of you.”

Finn huffs a laugh, taking in his dishevelled form, the splatter of blood that coats his coat not his own, appearing black in the moonlight. “Rough night?”

Their gazes lock, and the look in the Hunter’s eyes could steal the breath from his lungs if they functioned. “You could say that,” he mutters, quiet, distracted as he watches Finn’s lips part.

A pause, a quickened heartbeat, and they meet in the middle.

Finn reaches up as the Hunter reaches out, iron fingers curling in the front of his shirt, pulling him close, lips crushing against lips.

Although it’s decidedly urgent, there’s a sweetness hidden behind all of that desperation, the Hunter’s fingers shaking as they push into raven hair.

“Finnegan,” he says softly, quietly as they break apart, his breathing uneven.

Finn closes his eyes and steps away, unable to look at him, unable to let himself see the flush that sweeps across his cheeks, nor the way his lips are full, kissed red.

It’s too much, it always is, but all he can think about is how he still  _feels_  him beneath his fingertips, pressed to his lips. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, not meaning it.

“Don’t…  _don’t_  apologise,” the Hunter tells him, fierce as he steps forward to close the gap Finn has created.

Warm fingers find Finn’s cold, and he almost can’t remember the last time he was touched like this as they lace together.

There’s a craving he cannot explain, a need for this human he barely knows, and he feels like his long dormant heart might restart in his chest whenever he’s near.

A thumb brushes over his cool skin, the heat of him unmatched, and Finn’s eyes find his in the darkness once more. “So… can I walk you home?”

“A whole twenty steps? How chivalrous,” the Hunter teases, swaying forward as he speaks, and Finn has to check to make sure he’s not enthralling him unconsciously.

Finn clears his throat, an unnecessary human habit. “Chivalry is dead, in my case.”

The Hunter groans at his awful joke, smiling, wide, wide,  _wide_ , his eyes crinkling at the corners.

He tightens his grip on Finn’s hand, tugging him towards the brightly lit tavern. “I could do with a stiff drink after the night I’ve had. Will you join me?”

Finn flashes him a smirk, deciding not to mention that he’s been here for hours, hoping to catch him, worrying for him. “How could I refuse?”


	48. A Secret (Elaine x Armaros)

His fingertips move lightly over warm skin, tracing the lines of fading sunlight that illuminate her freckles and scars. It’s quiet but for their breathing, and Armaros finds it hard to breathe around her like this.

Wild strands of hair curl at her collarbone, trail over her shoulders and rest at the curve of her waist, and he closes his eyes as he moves closer. He’s emboldened by her, his mouth on her skin, at her throat where her pulse beats faster than any humans ever could. 

Blackened fingertips move over his shoulder blades, moving down the bumps of his spine, back up. “Armaros,” she whispers, breathy,  _dreamlike_. 

Elaine rarely says his full name, and the sound of it quiet on her tongue has him seeking her gaze. “Yes?” 

She presses closer, and the feel of her bare and scalding hot against his chest is something he could never forget. “Can I tell you a secret?” 

He swallows the lump that forms in his throat, feels his cheeks heating as her leg winds with his own, no space wasted between them. 

Armaros watches carefully as she takes a breath, exhaling delicately, a flush sweeping across her own cheeks. Long lashes lift, and she looks at him with such reverence that he can’t quite focus. “I… I  _love_ you.”

His eyes widen for the briefest of moments before he finds his composure, clears his throat, and he holds her that little bit tighter. He says it without hesitation, without thought, because he’s loved her for the longest time, since he first laid eyes on her. 

“I love you too.”


	49. Wicked (Finn x Hunter)

“I’ll be late,” they whisper, not an ounce of urgency in their tone as Finn peels the fabric off their legs.

He makes a non commital noise, a smirk hooking the corner of his mouth as he lays eyes on all that bare skin.

He swallows loudly, hunger  _burning_  in the back of his throat as he focuses on the nectar that pumps through their veins. “You don’t sound too concerned.”

He can feel,  _smell_  the heat that radiates from between their legs, no matter how they try to hide their desire for him.

“Well,” they begin, breath hitching as an iron hand runs over their flank. “It’s an emergency, right? You haven’t eaten for  _days_.”

He laughs quietly, reaching out to trace the patterns that swirl under their skin, the warm glow only visible to his kind, so  _beautiful_  as it calls out to him, a gentle, luring thrum.

Humans are far more deadly than any Creature ever could be when they’re as tempting as this one, he decides.

A growl rumbles deep in his chest when he finds his mark, the two silvering punctures left from the last time. “Yes, I’m  _parched_.”

He starts slow, teasing kisses from their knee up along the flesh of their inner thigh. Their touch is gentle as they feel the soft, shorn hair at the side of his head before they sink their fingers into longer raven locks.

He runs his tongue over the gooseflesh that puckers and blooms in wake of his touch, lips parted, eyes closed, and the Hunter chokes on a stuttered gasp as his fangs finally puncture flesh.

Thry breathe a soft sigh of desire, pleasure far outweighing the bite of pain as he begins to drink.

They feel his fingertips at their thigh, massaging gently as he eats voraciously, taking enough but not too much.  _Never_  too much.

“Finnegan,” they whisper, grip tightening in the strands that snarl about their fingers. It’s a plea, a desperate murmer, and their thoughts tell him exactly  _what_  they’re begging for.

_More, more, more._

He groans, palming himself through tented fabric, trying to still the dull but persistent ache that settles between his thighs. Blood coats his tongue, as he pulls away, and he lets it drip messily over his lips, down his chin.

He moves over them, and them Hunter forgets just how  _fast_  he is sometimes.

They reach to press their thumb to his plump bottom lip, smearing crimson over pale skin, a helpless whimper on the tip of their tongue as he sucks the digit clean.

They feel the hard press of him, their hips bucking to show him they they feel that burning need too. Their gazes lock, golden eyes hooded as he plants a careful kiss to the corner of their mouth.

“You’ll be late,” he teases.

They smile, a wicked thing. “I suddenly find it hard to care.”


	50. Tangled (August x Hunter NSFW)

Dark ombré hair spills over their pillow, stray strands curling at their forehead and sleep-flushed cheeks. A long leg has escaped the tangle of the sheets, their nightshirt rising high and revealing smooth, pale skin, and August is  _beautiful_. **  
**

They look peaceful, their eyelids flickering, and the Hunter wonders what they might be dreaming about. There’s a stark difference between the August that wanders the waking world and this one, and they seem weightless, _peaceful_ , a distinct lack of an accusatory curled lip or eyes that roll.

The Hunter sighs, content to watch them, the steady and slow rise and fall of their chest, and they can’t resist reaching out to brush one of those snarled wisps of hair from their face.

A nose twitch, then a smile, and with great effort August opens their eyes.

“You caught me,” the Hunter smirks, watching as August rolls and raises their arms high above their head with a contented sigh as their bones click back into their rightful place.

“I caught you. Were you enjoying the show?”

They tilt their chin, and the Hunter knows that cue, leaning in to press their mouths together in a kiss that tastes like last nights wine, sweet, tart,  _delicious_. August pulls his bottom lip between their teeth, drawing the limb that had escaped the confines of the bedsheet up around his waist.

Without thinking, the Hunter’s fingers are finding the buttons of their shirt, undoing them one by one until soft cotton falls open, a delicious and tempting warmth radiating off them.  

He smiles against August’s lips as their hips hitch against his own, thinking about how these lazy mornings always turn into something urgent, explorative.

They can’t help it. This  _thing_  between them is too new, and they still have too many things about each other to discover, freckles and curves to memorize.

August eagerly deepens the kiss, a breath passed from lung to lung, and the Hunter is thankful for the way August dresses for bed. This is a need that can’t be quenched, and the Hunter idly wonders how others see them, if they can spot the passion lingering beneath the surface whenever they exchange a glance or pass a report over August’s desk.

The nights where he walks August home, their fingers brushing between them, no one questioning it when they arrive together the next morning.

“I need you,” August breathes, pressing a hand flat against his chest, the other reaching between them to feel him thick and  _hard_  against their palm.  

They turn in his arms, their back arching as they look at him over their shoulder, pushing against him in a way that could only ever be described as  _needy_. The Hunter tugs at the collar of their nightshirt, exposing a freckled shoulder, placing a kiss, then another, and another…

They made love twice last night, and they find it easy now, the Hunter pushing into the eager clench of them with little resistance, a hand settling upon their waist as he steadies himself. They gasp together as he begins to move, the Hunter making sure he’s watching as he sinks himself inside inch by inch, driven by the sound of the groan that August muffles against a downy pillow.

“Slowly,” they rasp, eyes half lidded as they meet his gaze, sky blue barely visible around blown-black. “Please…” 

His hand squeezes their hip, a grounding gesture as he moves, shallow thrusts at first, barely a step away from that slow grind that built them up so much, that led to  _this_. 

August is warm,  _tight_ , and the Hunter presses his forehead between sharp shoulder blades as he tries to find an ounce of resolve through all of this blinding heat. There’s the barest sound of skin meeting skin, drowned out by August’s rhythmic heavy breathing, a captivating flush spilling over the top of their chest that carries down from the pink that sweeps across their cheeks.

He loves the way they look at him, as though he’s  _everything_ , a new beginning, and he feels the same but can’t say it. He doesn’t want to lose this, to lose them. 

He’s afraid, and he thinks they might be too if they feel anything like he does.

He holds August tighter as they claw at his hips, to urge him closer, if such a thing is even possible. A kiss placed to the edge of their jaw, and August whimpers as the Hunter reaches between their legs to work to relieve that dull ache. He strokes them languidly, edging forward until they’re cheek to cheek, until he can hear every little hitch in their breath, every quiet keen.

August reaches upward to run a hand through his hair, long fingers trembling as they sink into the silky strands, brushing them away from his forehead.

“August,” he whispers,  _purrs_ , their lips but a breath apart as he feels that heat deep in his gut, refusing to give in and let go until he can chase August’s own release. August braces themselves against him, a shudder, a stutter, and they come over his curled fist, goose-flesh blooming over their skin as they let the waves take them.

The Hunter willingly drowns alongside them with a ragged breath, a flash of stars behind eyelids and sparks across his skin, and they fall apart as one.

August groans as they part, turning to face him, winding their arms around his neck. Sweat-slick skin,  _warmth_ , fingers lazily curling at the nape of his neck, and the Hunter looks at them with a lazy smile. 

Their face is still flushed, impossibly beautiful, and dangerous words linger on the tip of his tongue, words that he still cannot allow himself to say. “Hi,” he whispers, settling for the first thing his blissed-out brain could find and feeling…  _idiotic_.

But August offers him a smile, their pretty eyes crinkling at the corners, a quiet laugh that almost filters into an uncouth snort. “You’re…  _ridiculous_ ,” they say, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. “But strangely I’m quite fond of you.” 

He raises an eyebrow, playful as he squeezes them closer. “Then you must be ridiculous too.” 


	51. Once, Twice, Forever (Finn x Hunter)

_“I’m staying here. For good.”_

_“For good?” Finn teases, perfect, infuriating._

_“For as long as you’ll have me, then.”_

___________

Cool thumbs run over sharp cheekbones, fingers at his jaw, brushing against the strands of hair that curl at his cheeks.

His cheeks flush beneath Finn’s palms, and he’s  _his_.

The Hunter lays on his back upon the mattress, chin tipped upward, and Finn catches his waiting lips in a crushing kiss.

He clings to him desperately, hands unable to settle. The Hunter is checking he’s  _real_ , a palm between his shoulder blades, fingertips passing over the ridges of his spine, those two perfect divots at the base, then repeat.

Finn hums softly, a sound of approval as he threads iron fingers through his hair, his other hand tenderly resting at the nape of his neck.

They could lay like this for hours, memorising the lines of each other’s faces, bodies, just silent and appreciating every ounce of one another’s company.

The Hunter said he would  _stay_ , and Finn’s whole world had realigned.

Nose fumbles against nose as Finn shifts closer with a smile, and the Hunter opens his mouth, tongue lazily finding tongue.

Finn tastes like that first sip of whiskey after you’ve been sober for years. Rich and strangely  _warm_ , like liquid sunshine, and the Hunter drinks greedily, savours every drop.

Each breath that breaks the desperate series of kisses is a gasp, a fierce inhale, and he can do little to resist diving in for another.

Another,  _another_ …

“The sun will rise soon,” he mumbles against Finn’s lips, and the Vampire tightens his grip, winds his arms around his waist as if he never means to let him go.

“Come home with me,” Finn purrs, fierce golden eyes bright, bright, bright in the fading darkness. “Come  _home_.”

Relief coils in his belly, his heart quickening in his chest, and Finn smiles when it stutters.

 _Home_.  _This is home, now._

The blush of their kiss lingers upon the Hunter’s cheeks. “Kiss me again.”

He laughs as Finn rolls away, bringing him with him, his palms landing either side of Finn’s head. These sheets are scratchy, worn, and he thinks of the dark silk that awaits him in Finn’s quarters.

_Their quarters?_

Finn looks up at him like he hung the stars, reverence and wonder shining brightly in his unwavering gaze. “Yes,  _ours_. Now, how many times should I kiss you, exactly?”

The Hunter shrugs, nonchalant, playful in the same way that made Finn fall in love with him, swallowing the lump that forms in his throat as he ignores that easy affirmation.

Finn presses a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of the Hunter’s mouth, shaking him from his thoughts. “Once more?”

He brushes knuckle over knuckle before he takes his hand in his, bringing it up to his lips. “ _Twice_ more?”

“Finnegan,” he chides, his soft smile betraying his tone.

“Hmm. Then, how about forever? Over, and over, and over, a—“

The Hunter shuts him up with a quick kiss, laughing as cold hands find the sliver of bare skin at his waist where the hem of his shirt meets his trousers.

He claws back his composure, fixing Finn with a firm gaze, trying to convey just how maddeningly he craves him. “Forever.”


	52. Melting (Omen x Hunter)

He’s never felt anything quite like Omen.

The Demon is like heaven and hell all wrapped up in an impossibly attractive package. The sweetest of smiles, but those wide eyes have a certain glimmer to them, a flicker of mischief that sends sparks skittering across the Hunter’s skin.

Strong thighs straddle his waist, and Omen moves above him, an eager bounce that knocks the breath from his lungs every time he rises and falls.

His tail curls around the Hunter’s wrist, reels him in, and he wants to be  _touched_.

The Hunter drags a splayed palm from collarbone to navel, feeling the impossible heat of him as his fingers glide over muscle that shifts under pale skin.

Omen is unassuming when in clothes,  _lithe_ , but when stripped bare he’s powerful to the point where it almost scares the Hunter, makes him want to know more about where he’s from, who he  _really_  is.

He feels the air in the room thicken, his breath coming in harsh pants as Omen rides him harder,  _faster_ , his tail moving to brush over his ribs, it’s pointed tip sharper than he remembers.

Omen pushes blackened fingertips into his own long, silky hair, the sight of him a privilege, something rare and  _beautiful_.

Hot, hot,  _hot_ , and the Hunter watches as heat hums beneath Omen’s skin, a copper glow, otherworldly and, again,  _terrifying_.

Omen’s palms meet the Hunter’s chest with a loud  _slap_ as he arches his back, falling forward until their foreheads are pressed tightly together.

There’s a smile on his lips, a sinful smirk that tells the Hunter all he needs to know, but he says it anyway. “I’m close. So  _close_.”

He nods, the maddening feel of Omen this close, this tight, slick, and  _hot_  around him, and he fears he may really be melting. “With me,” he rasps, sweat beading at his brow, collecting in the dip of his clavicles, at the backs of his thighs.

Omen makes a quiet noise, a pleased hum, and the Hunter grabs the firm curve of his backside and keeps him steady as he pounds out his final thrusts, sparks bursting behind his eyelids as he comes with a ragged cry.

Omen eagerly swallows the noise with a kiss, a kiss that  _burns_  as warmth spills over his stomach between them.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever feel cold again.


	53. Last Kiss (August x Hunter)

Every single time they kiss him, they think it may be the last.

They commit each detail to memory for the longest time. The way his mouth curves into a smile just before their lips meet, the way their noses brush, the way he tastes, a palm pressed over their heart, warm, warm,  _warm._

August gives him a piece of themselves each time, and he gives equal parts in return. A catalogue of touches, lingering looks, kisses, _more_. 

They try to unlearn the habit, to shake off that fear that’s become so ingrained in them over a lifetime, and eventually they come to accept that he’s theirs. 

Just as they are his. 

August has never felt so free, so happy, and they now savour each morning they get to wake by the Hunter’s side. 

Weeks, months,  _years_ , all of it blending into a blissful haze, and their fingers twine together unconsciously now, each kiss better and more cherished than the last.

A white sheets covers him now, macabre crimson petals blooming where his heart rests silent beneath too-pale skin. 

He’s cold where he’d always been so warm, still where there was always movement, and when August presses their lips to his, he does not kiss them back. 

It was last night, they think, the grief clouding their thoughts as they try to recall how it felt, tasted. 

* * *

_He’s wearing August’s shirt._

_It’s too small, but it clings to him in all the right places, making August laugh when he emerges from upstairs, the fire roaring generously in the hearth._

_“You look ridiculous,” August snorts, their cheeks red from the expensive wine they’re drinking, wine that sloshes over the sides of their glass when the Hunter dramatically falls to the sofa by their side._

_“But you’re smiling,” he teases, reaching out to trace the curved lines of August’s lips. “I like it when you smile, my love. I’ll endeavour to look ridiculous more often.”_

_August pokes him in his ribs, their smile widening as he edges ever closer, head tilted, and their lips brush in the barest of kisses. A soft, fleeting thing before he’s pulling away._

_But August isn’t finished, is greedy and not sorry about it._

_They twist their fingers in his shirt as he retreats, tugging him close and stealing another._

_And another… and another…_

* * *

Tears trail their cheeks, an ache in their gut that they don’t think will ever dissipate, but August smiles.

“It was a good one, my love.” 


	54. Gifts & Treasures (Elaine x Armaros)

She leaves a parcel in his doorstep nightly, neatly wrapped for him to find before he rests.

It started with a polished stone she’d found in the graveyard, a curious little thing that she said was the same colour as his eyes.

“Like the sky on a cloudless day.”

Aurora rolls her eyes as he enters the house tonight, another present clutched tightly in his palm.

“What is it tonight, brother. A diamond ring? A  _leaf_?”

Armaros throws her an exasperated look, his brow quirked. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, sister.”

A playful smile hooks the corner of her mouth, and Armaros can do little to resist returning it.

She leaves in a flurry of blonde hair and white cotton, and Armaros turns his attentions back to the gift.

He unties the string, the colourful cloth falling open to reveal a large pendant. It’s silver, maybe even platinum, and it’s  _old_ , still speckled with dirt from wherever Elaine had retrieved it.

There’s a note beneath it, and her sweeping cursive is just as enchanting as she is.

_Zes haewa._

He feels warmth blossoming upon his cheeks as he traces the letters, because Armaros understands this language, and he smiles, wondering if she knows.

_My love._


	55. Forced Goodbyes (August x Hunter)

August knows the Hunter should leave.

He’s better than Lunaris, better than most, but he’s all too happy to settle here for good, just for August.

He’d never admit that, though. That makes it real, this  _thing_  between them.

He’s even talked of retiring.

It would be a travesty, and August can’t allow it, will  _not_  be the thing that stops him from flourishing and becoming the man that they know he could be.

Prolific, a  _legend_.

He’s got more talent in his left thumb than ten Hunters, and August has a duty to their country.

They’ve been at war with themselves since they made the decision, trying to ignore the way their heart continues to flutter whenever he’s near, the way their pulse spikes when he kisses them.

The mornings are the hardest, pulling themselves from sleep-warm sheets each day and promising that it’ll be the last, that they’ll  _do it,_  and yet…

Warm fingers reach out to trace the curve of their spine, and they fall all too willingly back into his arms.

 _Tomorrow_.

_And the next day, and the next…_

August looks down at the papers that sit upon their desk, the fine feathers at the end of their quill trembling in their unsteady grip. They take a deep breath, and they sign.

He comes when he’s called, entering their office with that perfect smile, a spring in his step, and August can’t bring themselves to look.

_His fingers in your hair, lips sweet and warm against your own, the way he whispers your name like a prayer, something sacred._

August clears their throat, and the Hunter knows them too well, and he reaches across the desk to brush a tentative touch over August’s knuckles that bleed pure white.

“August?”

“Your transfer has been signed off. You leave at dawn.”

He’s been waiting for it, and August knows there are far harsher words burning on the tip of his tongue other than the bitter, “I see,” that he mutters.

He withdraws his touch.

August dares themselves to make eye contact, regretting it when it’s all too late.

He looks sad, betrayed, and August’s heart no longer flutters, it  _aches_.


	56. Under Stars (Finn x Hunter)

He’s at his happiest here, laying in too-tall grass in a clearing he knows is safe, protected by his Clan.

He cannot bask in the warmth of the sun, so instead he soaks up the starlight.

The Hunter lays beside him, their fingers brushing where they rest between them, and Finn finds himself watching something other than the galaxy that stretches above him for once.

Here the stars are so bright that they make Finn’s chest ache, and as he watches the Hunter’s eyes flicker in the darkness, he knows what he’s seeing.

Orion, Perseus, Apus.

Levi had taught him about the constellations over their shared centuries, a poor replacement for the parents he’d never had, but it was one of the few cherished things that his sire had ever given him.

Warm fingers twitch against his cold, the Hunter reaching for him, tracing the lines of his palm as he unconsciously turns his hand under his touch.

He’s closer now, close enough that Finn can smell the subtle scent of the soap that he uses to wash his hair, the sweetness of it almost overpowering the copper tang of the blood that flows through his veins.

 _Almost_.

He’s intimately aware of the Hunter, and he has been right from the start. There had been something there, a  _spark_ , however cliche that may sound, and it lingers to this day.

It’s even getting worse as time passes, a strange but welcome ache in the pit of his stomach, a longing.

_What is it about you?_

Finn wets his lips, studying the Hunter’s features in a way he isn’t often able to, a peacefulness here that they can find nowhere else.

His face is cast in shades of silver and white, the subtle shine of the moon catching against the arch of his neck, the curve of his jaw.

He’s indescribably beautiful.

“Finn,  _look_ ,” he says, his voice full of wonder. “It’s Lupus. There.”

He points skyward with his free hand, and he traces the constellation on a breeze, turning to watch Finn watching him.

Finn spies the heavy bob of his throat, hears his pulse quicken and the blood that rushes in his ears, to his cheeks.

The Hunter squeezes his fingers, warm, warm,  _warm,_ and all Finn can think about is pressing their lips together.

“Finn? Are you okay?”

He huffs a laugh, a quiet, almost vulnerable thing, and he closes that infinitesimal gap between them and  _kisses him_.

Under stars.


	57. Counting (Finn x Hunter NSFW)

She’s laughing at something Piper says, giddy and  _free_  as she leans back against the bar. The drink in her hand is cold, whiskey over ice, and she takes a long sip, relishing in the burn as it trickles down her throat. 

He’s been watching her all night, and she  _knows._

A game, a thing that makes the thrill of even the most dangerous hunt feel as easy as breathing. She finishes her drink, saying her goodbyes to her friend, and she finally allows herself to catch his eye. 

His fingers tighten around his glass, and she sees the shift in his golden gaze, something determined, intense. He moves to stand, and the smile that she offers him before she turns and heads for the staircase is nothing short of mischievous. 

She closes the door to her room, and in the darkness cold arms find her, winding around her waist, his lips pressed to her ear. “Thought you could beat me again?”

She turns in his grip, her back finding cracked plasterboard, and the smirk that crosses his lips is the kind that makes her feel like her heart is trying to tear it’s way from the safe cage of her ribs. 

Finn moves so fast it’s almost dizzying, a leg pressed between her thighs, firm fingers curling around her wrists and raising them high above her head. 

She’s pinned, and she  _likes_  it. 

He kisses her, and they both taste like whiskey, the burn of the amber liquid still hot on the tip of her tongue, on his lips. Finn makes sure there’s not an inch between them, bodies seamed tight as he steals her warmth, and the kiss quickly turns ravenous. His leg shifts, her hips grinding against his strong thigh, needing  _more,_ and Finn’s fingers walk a delicate path down her arms, over rib and waist until they find their mark. 

She can feel how hard he is through the tight fabric of his trousers, the press of it between her legs making her ache, a pathetic whimper catching in the back of her throat as he unbuttons her clothes. “How many times tonight, Hunter?” 

Another whimper as he presses his forehead to hers, and she might be embarrassed if she wasn’t so turned on, if he wasn’t looking at her with eyes that are now as black as the night, clouded with lust. “As many times as you can.” 

He laughs at that, a deep, throaty chuckle that has her toes curling in her boots. “As long as you can keep up, then.” 

Eager fingers find their way inside her underwear, and she bites her lip as he finds how wet she is for him, the groan that falls from his lips telling her he’s more than satisfied. He teases her, finally pressing a digit inside and pumping languidly, his eyes never leaving her face, taking in every tiny twitch and gasp with unbidden delight. 

He curls his fingers, and she cries out, her head hitting the wall with a thud as she arches back, hitching her leg around his waist as he finds that spot that makes her see stars. She’s desperate,  _panting_ , and Finn wastes no time in tugging her trousers low, flipping her to face the wall with a growl as he brings his slick digit to his lips for a taste. “One.” 

She braces herself against the wall, looking at him over her shoulder, feeling her cheeks heat as he unbuttons his shirt, parting the front his trousers and taking himself in an iron hand. He brings his free palm down against the curve of her ass, one sharp  _slap_  that makes her want to shamelessly beg for another, but she resists. 

He presses close, the welcome bite of cold skin against her warm invigorating as his lips find the juncture of her shoulder, the curve of her throat. He grinds against her, and the feel of having him  _right there_  but not buried deep is maddening, makes her legs shake.

His fangs find the soft flesh of her shoulder as he finally sheathes himself, pressing deep,  _deeper_ , letting out a sharp, unnecessary exhale as he begins to thrust into her, burying his cock as far as her body will allow.

He finds his rhythm, a hand on her hip to hold her steady while the other finds it’s way between her legs. She cries out, still sensitive as his fingers dance in circles, dipping lower to feel himself sliding in and out of that tight,  _wet_  heat. “You feel so good. Tight,  _warm_ ,” he purrs, running his nose along the shell of her ear, smiling against sweat-slick skin as she pushes back against him, a loud, ragged moan falling from her lips. “That’s it, let me hear you.” 

He pulls away, pushing back inside inch by delicious inch, an agonizingly slow, deliberate drag. He repeats the movement once, twice, and then he’s snapping his hips forward quickly, filling her to the brim with quick, sharp thrusts over and  _over_ until she’s struggling to catch a steady breath.

She buries a strangled cry against her arm as she comes, back arched to the point of snapping as he stills inside her, drowning in her pleasure, quickly following her in her bliss. His fingers find hers, and he holds her hand  _tight_  as he fills her up, lips brushing over the edge of her jaw in a soothing drag. 

She’s breathing heavily, fucked within an inch of her life, and as his next words spill from smiling lips, she truly thinks she might die tonight.

“ _Two_. Now, would you like another?” 


	58. In Her Clothes (Piper x Hunter)

The storm caught them just as they reach the edge of town. Their clothes are soaked-through, hair slick against cheeks and shoulders.

Piper fumbles for her house keys, swearing under her breath as rain gathers upon her long lashes, droplets falling down flushed cheeks when she blinks. “You,  _fire_. I’ll get these rags off and get us something to change in to.”

They hurry inside, and the Hunter kneels before the small fireplace to begin building up the kindling, coal, logs.

She smiles to herself when she hears Piper’s heavy boots hitting the floor above her, swiftly followed by a relieved groan. Drawers are torn open and slammed shut, then there’s a quiet pad of bare feet descending the staircase.

Piper inelegantly falls to sit by her side, clad only in a thin cotton shirt that barely skims the tops of her thighs. All of that bare, tawny skin makes the Hunter’s fingers twitch, and Piper notices.

“Take off those rags, will you? You’re making a puddle,” Piper teases, stretching her legs and wiggling her toes towards the flame.

She stands and makes a showing removing her sodden clothes, chucking them at Piper and relishing in the sound of her dirty laugh as they land before her with a  _splat_.

Everything about Piper is refreshing, invigorating, and as cold fingers reach up to trace a scar that crosses her thigh, the Hunter falls willingly into her arms.

“Put this on, you’ll get sick,” Piper whispers, the rasp in her voice as she tugs the shirt around her shoulders telling the Hunter she’d much rather her stay clothesless.

The Hunter buttons up the garment, surveying her new look. “Does it suit me?”

Piper bites her bottom lip, those deft fingers toying with the hem, pushing up,  _up_. “It does.”


	59. Too Soon (Finn x Hunter)

She finds him tracing his finger over a weathered photograph, its edges torn, the faces barely visible, but she knows exactly who it immortalises.

The mattress shifts as she takes a seat beside him, and the kids she presses to his jaw lingers a little longer than it normally would. “Would you like to tell me about him? That helps, sometimes.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “The problem isn’t the pain of talking about him, it’s that I don’t have enough stories to tell.”

She pushes her fingers into his hair, scratching his scalp in the way she knows he loves, a comfort. “The best ones are always taken too soon.”

He raises the picture to the candlelight, and she sees a blonde man with eyes the colour of the purest silver, a smile so bright, so  _warm_  that she feels a strange kind of familiarity. Finn is pressing a kiss to his cheek, their fingers entwined.

Happiness in its truest form.

Finn huffs a quiet laugh, bringing it closer, pointing at Gabriel’s cheeks. “I wish you could see his dimples. They were quite prolific.”

“Is… is it today?”

He frowns, shaking his head. The picture is placed upon the nightstand, safely locked away in the lockbox that rests there. “Not today. Sometimes it just catches me, and I think of all the things I could have done differently.”

She grabs his hand, bringing it to her lips and pressing a kiss to the centre of his palm. “I’m sorry.”

She knows there’s no point telling him he couldn’t have changed his fate, nor the fate of his lover.

She knows all too well that the greatest pain is dealt to those that deserve it the least.

Instead she simply sits quiet, still, fingers entwined and squeezed tight.

Finn wraps an arm around her waist, holds her close. “I’m afraid I’ll forget what he looks like one day. The picture fades every year, and I have too many ahead of me.”


	60. Sweet Things (Elaine x Armaros)

Her hand is warm, almost  _too_  warm, but he darent let go.

She drags him through the market, her enthusiasm infectious as she approaches a colourful stall laden with brightly coloured treats. The smell is like nothing he’s ever experienced, sweet and tart and utterly  _divine_.

Elaine turns to look up at him with those impossibly huge, warm chestnut eyes, her heart-shaped smile causing his heart to stutter in his chest. “Have you tried before?”

He squeezes her hand, a habit he’s formed just to check she’s real every now and again. “I… no. I haven’t, sorry.”

She blinks at him once, twice, and then her smile widens, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Don’t be sorry. That just means we can do it together.”

Armaros huffs a quiet laugh, his cheeks heating, and he nods his approval. “Very well.”

The vendor quirks a curious brow at him, sighing heavily as they take their time. “Can I help you, Mr Woodridge? Or are you and your creature just going to ogle my wares all bloody day?”

“We’ll have whatever you recommend,” he says, as polite as he can muster. “Here.” He hands the old man a small coin pouch. “Nothing with salt.”

Elaine edges closer, winding an arm around his waist, clutching his jacket. “Thank you,” she whispers, rising up onto the balls of her feet to place a chaste kiss to the curve of his jaw.

The vendor clears his throat obnoxiously, handing him a neatly tied little bag, his cautious gaze firmly fixed on the Demon. “Enjoy.”

Elaine doesn’t sense his unease, still seeing the world through innocent eyes, and Armaros holds her that little bit tighter as she thanks the old man for his goods.

They head for the sea and take a seat upon the edge of the dock, passing treats back and forth, deciding what they like and what they loathe.

Chocolate makes Elaine’s tongue tingle, they discover, and Armaros happily kisses her until she forgets.


	61. Comfort (August x Hunter)

She stands in front of the floor-length mirror, gilded to within an inch of its life,  _expensive,_  and she smiles as she takes in the various trinkets that are hung over its corners.

She sees them stir in the bed behind her, long legs emerging from beneath soft sheets, their long hair loose and messy, but somehow still effortlessly flawless where it falls over their shoulders.

“What are you up to?” They yawn, grabbing the sheet and wrapping it around their waist as they stand, the sight of their sleep flushed skin making her breath catch in her throat.

“Just admiring all of your belongings,” she says, leaning back as August winds an arm around her waist, tugging her against their chest.

Warmth, comfort, and August is pressing a kiss to her temple. She’s content, and she has no doubt that they are too.

She hums her approval as they splay a hand over her stomach, long, elegant fingers twitching through the thin fabric of her nightshirt,  _August’s_  shirt.

“Have you taken a fancy to anything in particular?” They say, pressing another quick kiss to her cheek before they’re moving towards the mirror, running their hand over its side.

She shakes her head, watching intently as they reach for a petite silver necklace, a smile curling at their lips, something fond. “This was my grandmothers.”

August carefully pulls it free, the delicate chain draped over their palm, and the violet stone nestled in the center of the pendant is undoubtedly the same vivid hue as August’s eyes.

They see her staring, register her enchantment with it, and without hesitation they’re laying it around her neck, the metal cold where it settles between her collarbones. “August…”

“It’s yours. It looks good on you, better than it ever has on me,” they smile, eyes sparkling.

Their arms find her once again, pulling her into a tight embrace before she gets the chance to protest the gift.

She presses her lips to the place where their heart thrums steadily in their chest, smiling against skin still warm from sleep. “Were you close with your grandmother?”

August sighs, holding her a little tighter, chin resting atop her head. “She was the only one who ever believed in me. I was quite fond of her.”

They pull away slightly, looking down at her, at the necklace. “It really does suit you, you know.”


	62. Too Blind (Finn x Hunter)

She comes to realize that Finn is a catalog of little agonies, an abundance of misfortunes and heartbreak that continue to pile up. 

And she’s going to become one of them. 

She can see it in the way he looks at her lately. It’s as if he’s trying to suss her out, to decide if she deems him worthy to be the man that she’ll grow old and die with. 

To be another that leaves him behind. 

He’s told her of the loves he’s lost, each different, though equally as painful, and sometimes she wonders if it would be kinder to just…  _leave_. 

Because she could, couldn’t she? After this is all over, she has the luxury of being able to move on, be reassigned, to start over and find a new home.

Finn is bound to his Clan, to his duty as their leader, bound to  _Lunaris_ , and she selfishly clings to that as a comfort, as something she could use if she truly wanted to break his heart. 

Cool fingers brush the shell of her ear as he tucks a fallen strand of hair away, the mattress shifting as he turns to face her, luring her from her idiosyncrasies. 

He knows that she often lays awake like this, and yet he doesn’t speak, doesn’t ask her  _why_. 

_Maybe he can hear. Maybe he already knows._

_Or maybe he chooses to be blind._

She clears her throat and turns to meet that vivid gaze, his eyes glowing dully in the darkness, drawing her in. Her heart  _aches_ with how much she loves him, a thick lump in her throat that threatens to choke her, and she’s weak from the mere thought that she could ever possibly have to go a day without seeing him. 

Finn reaches up to brush away the stitch in her brow with a gentle swipe of his thumb, the concerned downturn of his mouth more than telling. 

She takes his face in her hands, staring him down as she takes an audible breath, following it with a slow, steady exhale. “I love you, Finnegan.” 

He smiles, impossibly handsome, and she knows as soon as he presses his cold lips to her warm that he’ll let her go.  


	63. Thinking (August x Hunter)

Ridiculous, that a simple thing such as a kiss could unravel them so.

It’s nothing—the softest brush against their lips, his mouth impossibly warm before he’s pulling away too soon.

It’s  _nothing_ , and yet August is already ruined.

The Hunter pulls his hand from between them, reaching up to lay his fingers upon August’s face, pressing his thumb against the hinge of their jaw, keeping them steady.

Another, and somehow this time it’s softer, slower. August eagerly tries to deepen it, always needing and shamelessly wanting  _more_ , but the Hunter holds them back with a small smile.

They’re breathing the same air in the quiet moment before he pulls away, and his eyes are as dark as the night sky as they meet August’s ice-blue.

The sheets are warm, their limbs a messy tangle beneath, and both of them are seemingly unwilling to shift, to let this moment fade.

August didn’t think it was possible, didn’t even really  _dream_  it outside of a fleeting longing that curled in their chest whenever they dared to read one of their beloved romance novels.

Now there’s this real,  _warm_  man in their bed. A man that holds them, kisses them, listens to them.

A man that  _stays_.

His fingers trace the curve of their lips, a curious smile curling at the edges of his own.

“What are you thinking about?”

_As if I could ever think of anything other than you now, Hunter._

“Nothing,” they say. “It’s nothing.”


	64. Aches (Piper x Hunter)

The tavern is loud, busier than Piper can remember it being, and she swirls her rum around her glass thoughtfully, the warm body pressed close against her side making her smile. “You know, they feel safe because you’re here. I haven’t seen it this packed in months.” 

The Hunter huffs, downing the remainder of their drink in one before they stand, gesturing for her to do the same. “Not bloody likely.” 

She shrugs, frankly not giving two shits if they believe her, because it’s enough that  _she_  knows. 

 _She_  believes in them.

“If you say so.” 

They laugh at that, watching her slam her now-empty glass on the crooked tabletop, reaching for her hand the moment it’s free. “Come on. My place tonight.” 

Piper crinkles her nose, feigning disgust as the Hunter leads her towards the narrow staircase that hides behind the bar. Their room is small, smells faintly of stale booze, but it somehow feels more like home than her own house these days. 

She falls back against the mattress, the Hunter tugging at her boots for her, raising their brows as she groans obnoxiously. “That’s  _heavenly._ ” 

They’re quick to remove their shoes, clothes,  crawling onto the cheap sheets and pushing eager fingers into knotted chestnut hair, finding a stray leaf tucked  beneath her ear. “You need a bath,” they chuckle, a soft ‘ _oof’_  falling from their lips as Hunter moves to straddle their waist. 

“I thought you liked it dirty, Hunter,” she teases, pulling her shirt over her head, the movement awakening the dull ache of her definitely-bruised ribs. 

They notice her wince, warm hands coming to rest upon her waist, thumb brushing over an old scar, feeling the jagged edges. “You’re injured.” 

She cups their face in her hands, leaning in to press their lips together in a fleeting but fierce kiss. “When am I _not_  injured?” 

They gaze up at her, a smile curling at the corners of their lips. Their hands begin to wander, dragging down over her hips, _lower_ , and Piper falls backwards willingly, humming her approval as they press her back against the mattress. 

“Well, now we’re alone together, I might just have to check you over,  _Meriman_ ,” they purr, soft lips finding the curve of her belly, peppering her tawny skin with reverent kisses as they move lower, and she finds herself quickly forgetting all of her aches and pains.


	65. Let Them Hear (Finn x Hunter NSFW)

There’s a generously sized cupboard at the back of the tavern, the Hunter is pleased to discover.

He finds himself bent over a table that overflows with empty liquor bottles, the sweet,  _stale_ scent of them filling his nostrils as Finn pushes his shirt up over his ribs.

“Did you miss me?” Finn asks, his voice low, commanding.

He groans as his belt is unbuckled, Finn reaching inside his trousers to feel the weight of him in his palm. “I did” he says, impressed with the steadiness of his voice. “It was torture, I thought of you every night.”

Finn makes a thoughtful noise, curling long fingers around his cock and stroking carefully,  _slowly_. “Good.”

Finn grinds against him, letting him feel exactly what he does to him, his impressive hardness straining against tight black trousers, the thought of it making the Hunter’s mouth water.

“Tell me, Hunter,” Finn whispers, voice ragged as he leans in, lips a ghost against his fluttering pulse. “Exactly how  _much_  did you miss me?”

His lover is cold, but the Hunter feels a heat like no other, a fire that only Finn could ignite as the thick ache between his legs gets the attention he’s so craved this past week.

_I lay awake every night, touching myself, pretending it was you, but nothing could ever come close._

He feels Finn smile against his skin as he hears that calculated thought, nuzzling the column of his throat, his hand still pumping, edging him closer,  _closer_  to his demise.

“Turn around,” Finn orders, and the Hunter spins in his arms, feeling his cheeks flush as he locks eyes with fierce, honeyed gold.

He wants him buried deep, the thought that they may soon be forced to part once again agony, and he grips the edge of the table as Finn steps between spread legs, leaning close, closer.

He traces the line of his jaw with his thumb, over his lips, pressing down, his eyes hungry as he watches his tongue flick out to taste cool skin. “I want you,  _now_.”

He swallows thickly, processing Finn’s words, thoughts firing in all kinds of filthy directions. “Shall we go up to my roo—“

With a growl, Finn surges forward, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, the promise of fang scraping over sensitive skin. “ _No_ , here. I can’t wait, I must have you.”

The kiss that follows is a quick, fleeting thing, tasting like whiskey and broken by the Hunter’s gasping moan as Finn lifts him up onto the table, pulling his trousers down and letting them fall carelessly to the ground. Eager fingers find the buttons of his shirt, flicking them open with ease, hands exploring tensed muscle.

“Finnegan,” he murmurs, reaching to free the Vampire from the cage of his own trousers, a firm hand pandering between his thighs. “I don’t know how you expect me to be quiet.”

A breathy chuckle, and Finn slides an arm under his leg, a slick iron finger circling his entrance, pushing inside, the Hunter relishing the stretch, the  _burn_. “Then let them hear.”

Finally, Finn fucks him slowly,  _deeply_ , his rhythm impossibly steady considering how desperate they are to feel one another. The Hunter cannot contain himself as he loses himself in the slick glide, the heavenly drag of Finn inside him, the hitch of his thigh about his waist affording him a new angle, one that sends sparks skittering across his skin.

Fingers claw at Finn’s back, trying to urge him closer even though there’s not an inch between them. “Harder,” he rasps, wanting to feel him for days afterwards.

“ _Louder_ ,” Finn teases, offering him a wolfish grin, a flash of fang.

The Hunter laughs, the noise cut off by a ragged groan as Finn heeds his request, pounding into him hard,  _fast_ , bottles shaking and the table creaking its protest beneath them.

He strokes himself, feeling heat pooling at the base of his spine, knowing his release is imminent, and if the furrow in Finn’s brow is anything to go by, he’s close too. The Hunter’s legs shake as he comes, toes curling as he shoots hot and sticky over his stomach, chest.

Finn rides out the waves of his pleasure, a satisfied moan muffled against sweat slick, overheated skin, his rhythm faltering, stuttering as he finds his release, burying deep.

They are loathe to separate, the Hunter panting, clawing for a steady breath as he rests his head upon a broad shoulder, Finn stroking cool fingers through messy hair.

“So good,” he purrs, holding him tight, kissing his temple, his cheek, and the Hunter smiles as Finn whispers his name.

The Hunter grins, holding that impossibly handsome face between trembling hands. “The whole tavern knows your name now, at least.”


	66. Watching (Finnzra x Hunter)

There are many perks when it comes to being a Vampire if you cast the curse of immortality aside, and one of those is the ability to linger in the shadows undetected.

He’d heard the gentle creak of the mattress as soon as he pushed at the hatch door, her breathy sigh, Ezra’s quiet groan.

Now Finn stands in the darkness of the hallway, the door to the bedroom open enough for him to see, to watch the way the dull candlelight casts shadows across their naked bodies.

A slick,  _sinful_  tangle of limbs, the Hunter in Ezra’s lap, her back arched as he laves his tongue over her breast.

His hands are greedy as they cup the perfect curve of her backside and urge her closer, guiding her hips in a rhythm that could only be described as desperate.

She whimpers Ezra’s name as she comes, her lips at his ear, and the Witch smiles, closing his eyes and following her into her bliss.

He holds her close through the tremble of her aftershocks, and Finn carefully makes his presence known, sure not to startle them as he pushes at the door and listens to its gentle creak.

“Finnegan,” Ezra says, hissing through clenched as the Hunter rolls away, missing the wet warmth of her as cold air hits his bare skin. “We missed you.”

Finn settles upon the mattress, falling willingly into arms that reach for him and settling between them.

The air smells of vanilla, sweat,  _sex_ , and he’s happy as they each drape a leg over his, a hand at his chest, another toying with a strand of raven hair.

“I could watch you forever,” he whispers, closing his eyes, drowning in the memory.

The Hunter presses a kiss to his shoulder, tracing the crescent moon upon his chest with a gentle fingertip. “If you’d come home sooner, you wouldn’t have needed to just watch.”


	67. Tell Me What To Do (Finn x Hunter NSFW)

“I missed you so much,” he breathes, his words muffled against eager lips, fangs grazing kiss-swollen skin.

“I missed you too. I thought about you all day,” Finn purrs, hands holding his face, fingertips brushing along flushed cheekbones, feeling the warmth of him.

He presses the Hunter  _hard_ against the door, the wood protesting in its hinges as he slips a leg between his thighs, the slightest pressure making the Hunter groan.

Finn moves his hands over his shoulders, travelling down and pushing at the hem of his shirt. The Hunter hisses as cool fingertips press against his abdomen, thumbs digging into the arching wings of his hipbones.

“I want to make you feel good,” Finn whispers, pressing a kiss to the place where his heart stutters in his chest as he parts the thin fabric of his shirt.

His hands find their way beneath the waistband of the Hunter’s trousers, reaching around to cup the curve of his ass, urging him closer with a harsh tug. Their hips meet in an aching grind, both of them beyond hard, sharing a groan that’s swiftly cut-off by another crushing kiss.

“Tell me what do do,” the Hunter groans, head meeting the door with a  _crack_  as Finn pushes at his shoulders. He presses his lips to the hollow of his throat, fangs grazing heated skin like a promise.

“No,” Finn murmurs, offering him a toothy grin that sends the Hunter’s thoughts skittering wildly. “Tonight is about you,  _only_  you.”

Strong hands grip his thighs, lifting him with ease, and the Hunter is carried to the bed, thrown down against dark sheets. Finn sheds what remains of his clothing before he joins him upon the soft mattress, smirking as he grabs his ankles and  _pulls_.

Finn smirks as he drags him close, leaning down, pulling one of his legs over his shoulder. Fangs graze the flesh of his inner thigh, and the Hunter holds his breath as he sinks them deep enough to get a quick taste, tongue laving over the crescent-shaped mark as he laps up the blood that pools at the surface.

He exhales sharply, letting out a breath he didn’t even realise he was holding as Finn finally fists his cock, looking up at him with fierce golden eyes as he sucks crimson from his teeth.

He gasps as Finn licks a wet stripe from base to tip, tongue swirling over the crown, tasting the salt that pools at the slit. He daren’t take his eyes off him, lest he miss the sight of him sliding his cock between his lips, fingers twisting in the sheets as he tries to ground himself, to stop himself losing his  _fucking_  mind.

It’s languid, teasing, and Finn takes him deep, that almost-heat engulfing him in one wet glide, tight, tight,  _tight_  as he hollows his cheeks.

He pushes a trembling hand into raven hair, wild strands snarling about his fingers as he tugs gently, a stuttered groan escaping parted lips as he arches his back and sinks himself deeper into the eager clench of Finn’s throat.

Finn hums his approval, urging him to tighten his grip, to guide his movements as he bobs greedily, the wet noises nothing short of vulgar, making him smile.

“I’m close,” he rasps, a vibration rocking him to his core as Finn groans around him. “Finn…  _fuck_.”

Finn digs his fingers into his hip, pinning him in place against the mattress as he squirms,  _desperate_  for more as he rushes towards his finish, heat looking at the base of his spine.

He feels his cheeks burn, the flush sweeping down and spilling over the top of his chest, his breath stuttering, and he can no longer choke back his unbidden desire.

Finn’s name falls from his lips alongside a cacophony of broken pleas, and he begs for Finn to  _end this_ , his toes curling against the Vampire’s back as he spills down his throat.

Finn swallows greedily, pulling away with a delicious  _wet_  smack of his lips. He sucks in a breath he doesn’t need, a growl rumbling in his chest as he crawls forward, eyes burning in the darkness.

The kiss that he offers him lingers, salt-sweet and  _sin_  as Finn carefully rests his weight on top of him, purring his delight. “You taste good,  _all_  of you, every drop.”

The Hunter laughs, tilting his head as that blissful haze clears, Finn peppering his jaw with reverent kisses. “ _Now_  will you tell me what to do?”

Finn pulls away, considering his question with a sly smirk. “On your knees, Hunter.”


	68. Anything (Piper x Hunter)

She quickly learns that Piper is insatiable after a successful hunt, and  _all_  of Piper’s hunts are successful.

She’s in awe of her when she fights, and the fluid grace of her as she strikes her opponents down is unmatched, like nothing she’s ever seen.

When they return home, bruised and bloodied, Piper eagerly finds her next target.

They fall into bed together as easily as they fall into step in the field, so in-sync that the Hunter can’t see straight, not with Piper perched so beautifully between shamelessly spread thighs.

She plays her like a song, makes her scream her name, and during the afterglow she feels like she might have become immortal.

Like she can do anything.

Piper lays beside her, sheets tangled around her naked form, tawny skin littered with scars of differing shapes and sizes.

Her hair falls messily from her bun, and she’s grinning wolfishly, dirt still streaking her collarbone, and Piper is  _pleased_  with herself.

She curls a finger beneath the Hunter’s chin, throwing a leg over her waist, taking in the sight of flushed skin, of the way that her hair clings to the droplets of sweat at the nape of her neck.

“Perfect,” Piper purrs, biting her bottom lip, eyes half-lidded, her sapphire gaze burning brightly from beneath dark lashes. “You’ve never looked better.”

The Hunter huffs a quiet laugh, edging closer, Piper’s overheated skin setting her alight, and all she can think is how she wants  _more_.


	69. Doomed (Finn x Ezra)

Each and every time he loses someone, Finn promises himself he won’t fall again. He’s weak, though, and as soon as green eyes met his gold that night all those years ago in the forest, he knew he was  _doomed_. 

Ezra possesses something rare, an aura of infinite calm, of kindness, and Finn never feels worthy of being the object of his affections. 

It’s the simple things that make Finn’s empty chest ache, the way Ezra’s tongue rests upon his bottom lip when he reads a complicated tome, the way he quietly hums to himself as he makes himself tea in the mornings, the way he runs his fingers along the curves of the arm he crafted, the magic that flows through it illuminating in wake of his touch. 

Tonight they lay in blissful silence beneath the stars, Ezra with more than a few blankets wrapped around him, and Finn feels guilty he cannot keep him warm. 

“Do you want to go inside?”

Ezra shakes his head, turning to face Finn, blades of grass tickling his skin. His cheeks and the tip of his nose are kissed a delightful shade of pink from the cold, and he sniffles subtly. “Absolutely not. I’m fine.” 

He’s lying, but Finn lets it slide, selfish as he allows himself to bask in his presence. He looks so perfect illuminated by the low-hanging moon, his freckles more beautiful than any constellation. 

Finn reaches out to brush that white forelock from his eyes, leaning in until their noses are touching. Ezra smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, impossibly charming.

He runs his knuckles over Finn’s bare arm in the most tender of touches, tilting his chin in invitation. Finn takes the bait, and the same tenderness carries into their kiss, the quickening beat of his heart impossible to ignore as tongue finds tongue. 

The quietest whimper, and Ezra moves closer until there’s not an inch left between them. Finn holds him close,  _tight,_ and he whispers the only words he could possibly ever think of uttering in a moment like this. 

“I love you.” 


	70. Keep Breathing (Finn x Hunter)

Finn often busies himself with minor things once his lover is settled in sleep, but lately he finds himself watching him.

It’s the tossing and turning, the whispered words with a sharp edge of panic, then whatever indecipherable thoughts that flicker through his mind that make Finn stay.

Finn doesn’t remember what nightmares feel like, but he knows they cause the Hunter distress, and that’s enough for him to fear them.

He places a hand upon his forehead, brushing hair away from sweat-slick skin, whispering his name and hoping he can lure him back into the waking world.

The Hunter comes to with a ragged gasp, rolling towards Finn with outstretched arms, overheated skin finding Finn’s cold.

He breathes heavily, and Finn swallows the burn that settles in his throat at the sound of his blood pumping generously through his veins, quenching a thirst that proves difficult to contain.

He grabs his face in his hands, carefully pulling until he catches his gaze. “I’ve got you,  _breathe_. It’s alright.”

The Hunter squeezes his eyes closed as Finn grazes flushed cheeks with gentle thumbs, slowly relaxing, letting the tension melt from his shoulders.

“Come,” Finn whispers, tugging at crumpled sheets and holding them open so the Hunter can slide closer.

They face each other, and Finn extends an iron hand to twine their trembling fingers with his impossibly steady. He collects himself well, but Finn sees through the facade,  _smells_  the fear.

Finn leans forward to press the quickest of kisses to his mouth, a distraction, and the Hunter smiles. “Sorry, I…  _thank you_.”

Finn holds him as sleep takes him once again, watches his eyes close, his breathing slowing, heart settling into a soothing, gentle thrum.

He doesn’t know what haunts the Hunter, but he takes comfort in knowing that when he’s this close, this  _loved_ , he won’t be alone.


	71. Yell (August x Hunter NSFW)

August’s head snaps up as heavy boots disturb a floorboard with a particularly obnoxious creak, their blue eyes growing wide when they spot him lurking in the doorway.

Alive, seemingly unharmed,  _here._

They set their book aside, not bothering to tie their robe as they push up off the mattress.

“I’ve already had an earful from Harry. Are you going to yell at me too? I des—“

August steals his words with a fierce kiss, hands around his neck as they greedily breathe him in, drowning in the feel, smell,  _taste_  of him.

The Hunter doesn’t hesitate to tug them close, a big hand firm against the base of their spine, the other in long, loose hair. The slightest tug of ombré locks and August pulls away with a fierce look in their pretty eyes.

“You’ve been missing for  _two days_ ,” they rasp, and suddenly he can see the heavy purple beneath their eyes, their brow fixed in a deep, accusatory frown.

He shakes his head, brushing a fallen lock of hair behind their ear. “I’m sorry, August. I missed you. Let me show you exactly how much,” he groans, pressing his forehead to theirs and closing his eyes as he smells the lavender scent of them.

_Home._

Their frown doesn’t dissipate, but they take his hand anyway, turning and leading him to the bed, no words required. They want to feel too.

He crawls over them where they lay against downy pillows and expensive sheets, the picture of perfection, that semi-sheer robe reveals an indecent amount of thigh as they part their legs for him to settle between them.

There’s nothing chaste about it, nothing tender as August pulls at his shirt, an errant button flying across the room as the fabric is eagerly pushed back off his shoulders.

Deft fingers find his belt, his buttons, spreading his trousers open and reaching inside to feel exactly how much he missed them.

The soft fabric is tented, his cock thick for them already, and he hisses through clenched teeth as they press the heel of their palm against that unbearable hardness.

August’s lips quirk into a wolfish grin, satisfied with the way he reacts to them. They arch their back, knowing all the ways to lure him in as the robe falls open with the calculated movement, and he can see that August’s arousal matches his own.

“Are you going to ‘show me’,  _Hunter_? Or are you just going to kneel before me, begging for forgiveness?”

The Hunter huffs a laugh, planting a hand upon August’s chest and pinning them to the mattress as he reaches for the vial of slick he knows awaits him in the nightstand. “Whatever you need,  _General_.”

He’s come here with his tail between his legs, ready for whatever scolding awaited him, but this?

 _This_  is so much better.

August squeezes his forearm as he presses a digit inside, following it with another as soon as he feels that they’re ready. He savours every little whimper, every flutter of their lashes as he stretches them open, eager to replace his fingers with his aching cock before he bursts at the seams.

When he finally does push inside, it’s as if he’s been immolated from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, and he’s  _hooked_ , instantly addicted to the tight,  _hot_  clench as August engulfs him.

Hips flush, and he stills,  _panting_  as he attempts to claw back the resolve that first glide so swiftly snatched away.

But August isn’t one to wait, to be patient.

What August wants, August  _gets._

They begin to move against him, bouncing, building fervour as he grips their waist in a weak attempt to stop them, earning a husky chuckle.

“ _Hunter_ ,” they purr, tilting their chin to run their nose along his clenched jaw, nipping at his throat playfully and pausing at his ear. “Stop this, and  _fuck_  me.”

The Hunter says goodbye to his resolve as those words roll like honey off their tongue. He obliges with little hesitation, already feeling that heat burning in his gut as he pins them to the mattress with punishing thrusts.

August carves lunar tracks into his shoulders, panting his name with a wet mouth and half-lidded eyes as the Hunter grabs their thigh and hitches it high around his waist.

They snake a hand between their sweat-slick bodies, the Hunter shaking his head in warning, and he can’t help but smile as August defies him and fists their cock, pumping once, twice, precome slick against their belly.

“ _Perfect_ , August,” he groans, leaning in to press his lips to their throat, peppering warm skin with reverent kisses as the room fills with the sinful sound of flesh finding flesh.

A shudder rips through him, and he knows he’s gone, all hope lost as August strokes themselves to completion, tight, tight,  _tight_  around him as they spill hot and sticky over their chest with a satisfied whimper.

There’s no turning back now, not with that sight before him,  _beneath_  him, and with deadly precision, he pulls out and finishes over their shaking thighs, satiated and satisfied with the way in which he’s marked them.

August gazes up at him fondly, cheeks flushed the colour of their favourite red wine, lips swollen from insistent kisses, wild strands of hair curling about their forehead, cheeks, sticking to the sheen that coats their skin.

The only word that does the sight of them any justice is  _devastating_.


	72. Smartass (Alkar x Hunter)

She runs delicate fingertips over the silvering scar that trails his brow, cheek, lip, his nose twitching with the tickle.

She says nothing, moving on to the next upon his collarbone.

“Having fun, Hunter?”

She makes a thoughtful noise, shifting where her chin rests upon his bare chest, his skin impossibly warm against her own. “I can tell what gave you each and every one of these scars.”

His curiosity piqued, he moves to rest upon his elbows, smiling as she moves with him. “Go on, then,” he grins, brow quirked.

The cheap tavern bedsheet pools dangerously low on his hips, and she eagerly swings a leg over his thighs, bracketing him in. “Let’s see…”

He leans back against the headboard, hands coming to rest upon her thighs, fingers twitching.

She presses her thumb to a tiny, coin-shaped scar upon his abdomen. “Cigarette burn,” she says, lips twitching. Onto the next, a jagged thing a little darker in colour than the others. “Silver dagger. Not too deep, but you remember the pain well.”

He huffs a laugh, annoyed that she’s right.

“What about these?”

He lifts his hands, waggling his fingers. She quickly grabs him, inspecting the marred skin, almost every inch of it lighter in colour than the delicious, tawny shade of him. “Most of these are from protecting others, but rarely yourself.”

She laces their fingers together, arching forward to kiss away the stubborn frown that forms between his brows.

“A smart one, aren’t you?” He teases, tilting his chin as her lips find his.


	73. Tasting (Omen x Hunter NSFW)

Omen’s heat is unmatched, his touch a thrill as he runs his hands over her body. Breast and rib, waist and thigh, and with a firm  _tug_  she’s dragged to the edge of the bed.

She twists her fingers in the sheets, finding an anchor as he kneels before her, between parted thighs, hooking her legs over his shoulders with a smile.

His tail sways elegantly behind him as he concentrates on the task in hand, a trail of reverent kisses pressed to her inner thigh.

He’s finding his way higher,  _higher_ , and she writhes beneath him, heels digging into his back as the anticipation threatens to drive her mad. “Omen,  _please_ …”

Wide chestnut eyes find her, his gaze brushing over her naked form like a caress. She watches his tongue flicker out to wet his lips, a promise of what’s to come, his cheeks kissed a charming pink.

He holds her steady, his breath warm against the wet that settles between her thighs as he leans in, and he’s unfairly close, close enough to touch and  _taste_.

His tongue is a revelation when he finally puts her out of her misery, a helpless whimper rolling off her tongue as he licks her, pausing and  _pressing_  as he reaches that tight bundle of nerves.

She stifles the ragged noises that pour from her throat against her knuckles, and Omen finds a perfect rhythm, pressing long fingers inside, curling them.

He smiles against her when she breathes his name,  _groans_ when she winds her fingers into his silky hair, worn loose over his shoulders in times like this.

Just how she likes it.

His name melts into a plea, a gasping,  _desperate_  thing as he presses his face closer, tongue moving deeper in tandem with the fingers that beckon inside her, playing her like a song.

Her hips buck against his mouth, burn in the depths of her stomach. The threat of release barrelling closer, full speed under the unrelenting swipe of his tongue.

Her fingers tighten in her hair, and Omen shamelessly ruts against the mattress as she comes.

The sound of her, the rush of wetness that hits his tongue, all of it too much, too  _fast_.

There’s a brief moment of disappointment as he pulls away, her toes still curled as he crawls closer, wiping the traces of her from his chin.

She gathers herself, still panting as she reaches for the buttons of his tented trousers, his tail curling around her wrist, an encouraging squeeze.

They laugh against one another’s lips, breathless from a kiss where all she can taste is herself upon his tongue.


	74. Copper (Finn x Hunter NSFW)

He’s tasted a Hunter’s blood before, but never like this.

Back then it was for the kill, something that still hurts to think about, but something that was necessary if he wanted to survive.

He never savoured the taste, never held them close or lovingly licked the wound afterwards.

It’s an incomparable ambrosia, the taste changing with their moods. Sometimes it’s cherries, others it’s cinnamon, but every drop is  _heaven_.

He finds bliss in many things, but then there’s the euphoria that follows his teeth nestling deep into tight skin.

Their skin.

Golden eyes turn black, and he fights his baser instincts to claw back the sliver of humanity he holds so dear. The Hunter’s touch grounds him as they cradle the curve of his skull, raven hair snarling about their fingers as they hold on, urging him closer.

The intimacy of it doesn’t go unnoticed by Finn, and it’s never a meal, it’s a revelation.

Blood bursts into his mouth, coating his tongue in a warm,  _wet_  rush, and tonight they taste like ripe citrus.

It flows down his throat in a steady stream, and he can’t imagine that even the freshest water could quench anyone’s thirst quite like this.

The Hunter moans, an indecent sound that has Finn hard and aching in the confines of his trousers, arching to seek even the slightest ounce of friction.

That moan evaporates into something quieter, softer, a whimper that makes him pull away. He stares them down, seeking their gaze in the darkness, and he finds a smile curling at their lips.

“Touch me,” they whisper, a broken plea as cold hands tear away the clothing that dares to separate them.

The scraps lay in a forgotten pile at their feet, and the Hunter holds him tightly as he lifts them, carrying them to the too-big bed to deposit them upon expensive sheets.

Finn’s lips are still tinged crimson, and he smirks as he hears the Hunter thinking about licking them clean, crawling over them and leaning close to dare them to try.

The Hunter playfully runs their tongue along the sharp edge of one of those fangs, fangs that could shred their throat without a second thought if he so desired.

“I’m yours,” they whisper, gasping as he pushes inside, both of them pausing as they adjust to the feeling, the fleeting  _ache_  that subsides with the first drag of his hips.

Iron fingers curl against a flushed cheek, and he watches a stray droplet of blood trailing their skin to settle in the hollow of their throat.

“ _Mine_ ,” he purrs, catching it with the tip of his tongue.


	75. Good Boy (Finn x Hunter NSFW)

When lost in the sensation of being filled, the Hunters mind tends to wander.

He’s wrapped up in strong arms, legs around Finn’s waist and ankles hooked behind his back as the Vampire slowly rocks into him.

It’s not urgent tonight, a languid thing that somehow manages to make him more breathless than when he’s being roughly pinned to the mattress by those powerful hips.

He’s hot, even where that deathly cold skin presses against his own, the chill of it not even close to sating the steady prickle of heat.

It spreads, creeping up, up,  _up_  until his chest and cheeks are kissed the same shade of dusky rose.

Finn’s favorite.

He wants more,  _needs_  more, and so he begs for it.

“Finn,” he whispers, breathy, not even caring how pathetically  _desperate_  he sounds as his lips trace the shell of a pointed ear. “Drink.”

He cries out as Finn growls, one  _hard_ , insistent thrust hitting the spot that makes his toes curl before he’s back to that steady, slick glide. “I thought you wanted to go slow tonight, Hunter?”

He shivers as Finn splays his palms flat against his back, pulling him closer. He tilts his chin and finds Finn looking up at him, the dull glow of his eyes striking in the almost-darkness.

That burning gaze doesn’t waver as he presses his lips to the goblet of his throat, a smirk curling at the corners. “Ask _nicely_ ,” he says, words mumbled against sweat-slick skin.

“Bite me,  _please_.”

“Good boy,” Finn chuckles, the sound rumbling deep and menacing in his chest as his fangs sink into the thick column of the Hunter’s throat with a sickening  _crunch_.

He sighs in relief as the now-familiar spike of pain shoots through him, his nerve endings on fire, and he’s sick for it, twisted and  _needy_  in a way he never thought possible.

He slides his hands down thick biceps, fingertips moving to graze Finn’s lightly furred chest, feeling the twitch of muscle as he continues to carefully rock against him.

The noises Finn makes when he feeds are nothing short of sexual, groans and growls that make gooseflesh break out over every inch of exposed skin.

The Hunter curls his fingers at the nape of Finn’s neck, fisting raven hair and urging him closer. His head spins as his blood floods Finn’s tongue, wet and  _warm_.

The insistent thrum of his rapidly beating heart is loud within the cage of his ribs as his instincts kick in and tell him he’s in danger, but he laughs it off, already lost.

Finn swallows loudly, pulling away and tipping his head back, fangs bloodied and bared as he grins. “ _Fuck_. You taste like cherries,” he groans, the sound utterly indecent.

The Hunter gasps,  _giddy_  as that delicious warmth blossoms in the pit of his stomach, a pressure at the base of his spine.

His cock is slick and  _aching_ where it’s trapped between the tight press of Finn’s body and his own, and his release is infuriatingly imminent.

“Take more,” he rasps, pressing his forehead to Finn’s, wanting to feel it again, more, more,  _more_. “Take it all.”

Finn digs firm fingers into the Hunter’s thighs, thighs that  _burn_  where he bounces greedily in his lap. Finn’s tight grip is a warning, the languid pace forgotten as they both lose their patience.

The Hunter is terrified because he  _means it_.The insatiable euphoria that comes with being bitten by his lover is overwhelming at times, and he truly would let him suck him dry.

“Don’t say such things,” Finn purrs, licking the crimson from his lips, sucking the pink from his teeth.

The thought makes him laugh, but Finn laving his tongue over the curving wound at his throat swiftly shuts him up. He lovingly drags the flat of his tongue over the weeping marks, lapping up any stray droplets of that nectar that drives him so wild.

A stuttering shift of his hips, and the Hunter’s resolve finally snaps, a ragged cry as he spills hot and wet over both of their stomachs, Finn exhaling a sharp, unneeded breath as he watches with a lopsided grin.

A galaxy sparks behind his eyelids, and the Hunter seeks out bloodied lips, tasting copper in his kiss as their tongues tangle in a slick,  _filthy_  glide.

Finn throws him back, fucking him hard against the mattress as he chases his own finish, fangs bared in a primal snarl as he fills him up.

Ever the masochist, Finn rolls his hips until he’s hissing, unable to bear the sensation any longer as he reluctantly pulls away.

He’s quick to check him over, the Hunter smiling lazily as a cold nose runs along the edge of his jaw, nuzzling tenderly. “ _‘Let’s take it slow tonight’,_  he said,” Finn teases, mocking his famous last words.

“Fuck you, Vampire,” he purrs, craning his neck to catch bloodstained lips in a shameless, hungry kiss.


	76. I Think (August x Hunter)

A lazy afternoon, a simple comfort that August has craved since before they can remember. They rest their head in the Hunter’s lap, their fingers stroking through long, loose hair, and they’re  _happy_.

This  _thing_  between them manifested without much thought, a natural and quick progression from acquaintance to colleagues to lovers in a matter of weeks.

August ponders the situation daily, overthinking like they so often do with things foreign to them, and they come to the conclusion that the Hunter has no intention of letting this become a fleeting thing.

They want _more_.

Tonight they ask August about Argyria, about  _home,_ and August sighs heavily, the Hunter tilting their head in question, pausing the soothing scratch of blunt nails against August’s scalp.

“I don’t talk about it,” August mutters, dissatisfied with the question, pulling themselves up from their lap and fixing their gaze.

“Sorry,” they say, reaching out to fix the mess they’ve left of August’s hair, flattening the flyaway’s, their touch trailing their cheek and lingering at their lips. “I just want to know more about you. You’ve got _files_  on me, after all.” 

A playful wink, and they’re kissing the corner of August’s mouth, a tender gesture that leaves their heart fluttering. 

August swallows the lump that forms in their throat, catching the Hunter’s hand and lacing their fingers together, a shameless comfort that’s become so familiar. 

They want to tell them that they know everything, that they know how they’ve suffered, who they’ve loved and lost, but instead August offers a quiet, “Ah.”

The Hunter chuckles, a deep, delightful noise, breath warm and sweet against August’s skin. “Ah? Don’t ‘ _ah_ ’ me, Enforcer.”

The kiss that follows can’t be described as anything other than perfect. 

The Hunter cups August’s face, lip finding lip as they wrap themselves up in one another, hands travelling under shirts and seeking warm skin as they fall back against soft cushions. 

Their tongues are a slick tangle, and there’s a whimper in August’s throat as they pull apart. They look at each other, lips kissed red, eyes half-lidded, and the Hunter appears to be searching for something in August’s gaze.

“What is it?” August whispers, voice raspy from a simple kiss.

 _Ridiculous_. 

The Hunter exhales sharply, apparently finding exactly what they were looking for. “I… I love you. I think I  _love_ you, August.” 

August’s breath catches, and they don’t need to consider their response, the words falling easily from parted lips. 

“I think I love you too.” 


	77. Something New (Finnzra x Hunter NSFW)

“Do it. Take a chance, I’m begging you. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been.” 

Anon, I’m sorry because I doubt this is what you expected when asking for this prompt, but sometimes I’m just Like That. 

 _Very_  NSFW. Enter at your own peril. 

* * *

The Hunter had never felt quite so…  _surrounded_.

He’d been circled by a coven of cursed Witches, cornered by a pack of ravenous Lycans, even stranded on a rock in the middle of the ocean with a patient Siren at his feet, and yet…

Being naked and sandwiched between a handsome Witch and a smirking Vampire was a thing that those terrifying scenarios couldn’t even come close to matching on the intimidation meter.

It wasn’t very often a man such as himself felt powerless, but he’s more than willing to let them have their way. He trusts them implicitly, without question, and earlier that evening when he’d admitted he’d never done a certain  _thing_ , the look they threw each other had a shiver rolling down his spine.

“Do it. Take a chance, I’m begging you,” Ezra had said, emerald eyes sparkling with the knowledge of a man that knew what he was talking about, like a cultist preaching to the masses, long converted to this particular cause.

Finn had then entered the room, a bottle of vintage single malt in-hand, offering him a convincing smirk and words that rolled off his tongue like warm honey. “You don’t want to spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been, do you?”

That was all it took.

Half a bottle of whiskey later, he finds himself with hands dragging down his thighs, one flesh, one iron, both  _cold_  and eager as Finn leaves a cool kiss against the base of his spine.

Ezra looks down at him where he’s pressed close, splayed against his chest and craning his neck to catch the Witches lips in a kiss, Ezra swallowing the groan that forms as Finn’s fangs graze along his inner thigh.

Firm hands knead his buttocks, those lips that press against the small of his back traveling lower,  _lower_ , until he’s arching against the sheets, against  _Ezra._

The pressure of Finn’s lips morph into a swipe of his tongue, the Hunter inhaling sharply, Ezra’s fingers pushing into his hair, scratching his scalp. “ _Good_ ,” Ezra purrs, shifting beneath him, both of them hard,  _aching_.   
  
His lips part in a silent prayer as Finn spreads him open and licks again, and his hips buck involuntarily at the new sensation, a tingle that spreads and curls right down to the tips of his toes.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he mutters, the word a rasp, drawn-out. “Finn…”

He looks up and sees Ezra smiling, a lazy thing, hotter than hell as he looks at Finn over the Hunter’s shoulder with a heavy-lidded gaze. “ _More_ ,” he orders, and Finn gratefully obliges.

The next sound that falls from the Hunters lips can only be described as desperate, a whimper as Finn flattens that talented tongue, licking a wet stripe, repeating the action over and over and  _over_.   
  
The noises he continues to make only urge Finn on, make him devour him a little deeper, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs hard enough to bruise as Ezra whispers in his ear, tells him how good he’s being.

He accepts his fate, accepts that he’s willing to do anything the two forces of nature command, and he’s putty in both of their hands.

Here he isn’t a Hunter, he’s the  _hunted_.

Finn tears away, leaves him wet and wanting as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He covers the Hunter with that powerful body as he leans over him and captures Ezra’s lips in a kiss that can only be described as sinful.

He knows that it’s not over, no matter how much his mind spins, no matter how strangely sated it’s left him, so he waits patiently for the inevitable next step. 

Their kiss turns ravenous, Ezra groaning as Finn catches his bottom lip with a fang, tongue laving over the offending mark before any blood can bloom.

He pulls away, a satisfied smirk as he edges close, leaving Ezra panting. “Now,” he purrs, nose running along the edge of the Hunter’s jaw, a promise of fang as he tastes the sweat on his skin, presses his tongue to the hollow of his throat. “Tell me what you want.”  

His pulse is rapid, unsteady, taunting the Vampire and daring him to steal a taste.

_Bite me. Fuck me. Fuck Ezra. Anything you want. It’s yours. All of it._

A throaty chuckle, one that makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise, that makes Ezra groan beneath him. “Well, how am I supposed to decide with such vast options? Help me out here.”

Ezra intervenes, reaching between them to curl his fist around his own aching cock. “I want to watch.”

Finn growls his approval, another quick kiss pressed to Ezra’s parted lips before he’s grabbing the Hunter by the waist, pulling him up until he’s on his knees. 

Ezra sits back against the headboard, beautiful in dull candlelight, russet skin aglow, eyes blown black as he begins to stroke himself, his gaze unwavering.

The urge to reach out and touch him is maddening, but Finn quickly makes sure he’s occupied.  

He finds his mark, sliding into the eager,  _tight_  clench of him with ease, and the Hunter arches his back, a sinuous bow, almost to the point of snapping as he gasps for a steady breath. That deliciously familiar feeling of being _filled_  makes his toes curl, his groan filling the windowless room and echoing off old stone as Finn begins his expert assault.  
  
He swears Finn times the deadly roll of his hips to the rapid thrum of his heart, everything in-sync, his eyes fluttering shut, fingers fisting the sheets as the sensation overwhelms him.

“Look at him,” Finn orders, iron fingers gripping his hair, tipping his head with a careful tug, and the Hunter’s gaze falls to Ezra once more.

He’s met with a smile, beautiful and _bright_ , a little lazy as Ezra’s toned stomach tenses with each steady glide of his hand. He’s watching them intently, getting closer by the second just as the Hunter is, and at Finn’s whispered command the Hunter takes himself in hand, feeling that velvet weight heavy and  _thick_  in his palm as he matches the pump of Ezra’s fist.

Finn’s thrusts dissolve into a perfect crescendo, the Hunter breathing heavily through clenched teeth, biting back noises he knows he’ll only be embarrassed about later. “C-close… I’m  _close_ ,” he manages, a mere stutter, but Finn understands.

Finn and Ezra exchange a glance, maybe even a thought, and Ezra crawls forward, settling on his knees when he’s face to face with the Hunter, close enough that he can feel his warm breath upon his lips. “Together,” he whispers, an inviting smile followed by a kiss, one that’s all tongue, decidedly sloppy and deliciously dirty.

Ezra greedily swallows the Hunters groan as he comes, and he returns the favour as he swiftly follows him over the edge. He feels Finn pressing close, fingers digging a little harder into his hips, a growl rumbling deep in the Vampires chest as he joins them, coming  _hard_  and fast, leaving the Hunter’s thighs wet and warm as he pulls away.

The moments that follow are seen through a glassy haze, and he’s left in a dreamlike state from the sensory overload, and he wonders how life could ever possibly get boring with these two around.

Finn falls to the mattress between them, and they collapse willingly into his waiting arms, grateful for the bite of cold skin to calm the burn on their own.

“Well,” Finn says, eyebrow quirked, lips curling at the corner in a smirk that can only be described as deadly. “Are you converted?”

He huffs a laugh, appreciating the way in which Ezra lazily curls against Finn’s side like a cat, eyes fluttering closed as he presses a flushed cheek to his chest. 

“I think you can probably guess.”


	78. Liking You (Piper x Hunter)

It’s late, and the training ground is deserted.

Nothing but the comforting  _thud, thud, thud_  of Piper’s fists hitting the dummy as she works out a weeks worth of tension.

No hunts, no kills, just fucking  _paperwork_.

She snarls, a bitter laugh escaping curled lips as she gives in to fatigue and hugs the swaying figure, leaning her weight against it as she catches her breath.

Sweat drips in her eyes, her hair a mess where it’s fallen from her messy bun, sticking to her cheeks and the back of her neck in wispy tendrils.

The creak of a door, footsteps, and she closes her eyes, knowing exactly who stands behind her. “Come to get some tips? Steal my moves?”

A quiet laugh, almost a sigh, and the noise makes her heart flutter.

“I came to see if you wanted to get a drink, actually.”

Piper groans, forcing herself to stand straight, unwrapping the bandages from her knuckles and letting the ribbons fall to the floor as she walks towards the Hunter.

“Why, out of all the people in this shitstain of a town, would I want to get a drink with  _you_ ,” she sneers, words wavering as their eyes lock, and there’s that gaze.

The earnest one that knocks the air from her lungs every damn time.

She stands firm in front of Piper, looking at her in a way that makes her cheeks burn, and she’s grateful that the heated skin from her workout can mask that traitorous flush.

The Hunter smiles, soft, a little sad, infuriatingly  _gorgeous_ , and Piper falters as her gaze falls to her lips.

She falters because she’s kissed those lips, the taste of spiced rum burning on the tip of her tongue as if it happened only moments,  _seconds_  ago. She clears her throat, fingers twitching at her sides.

“You can’t pin it on me forever, Piper,” she sighs. A final look and she’s turning, giving up.

Piper catches her wrist, her pride forgotten as she reels her close, close enough that the tips of their noses touch.

“Hey, look… I like you a lot,” Piper whispers, a ghosting brush of their lips, a teasing thing before she’s pulling away, walking quickly to grab her things as if it never happened.

“Piper, I—“

“I just thought you should know,” she says, cutting her off, brushing past her and heading for the door, into the growing darkness.


	79. Take Me Out (August x Hunter)

It’s cold, August tightening the grip they hold on their coat as they walk side by side with the Hunter through the quiet Lunaris streets.

There’s always that feeling that begins to manifest in the pit of their stomach as the sun starts to set. The sky will turn from orange to purple, then inevitably that unrelenting black that evil loves to follow.

The dull glow of the lantern that sits beside the tavern door catches their eye, and August glances at their Hunter, her nose and cheeks kissed pink from the chill.

A smile curls at their lips, a bashful thing that warms their own cheeks. “Do you want to grab a bite to eat?”

Her steady steps falter, and she offers them a curious glance, hair whipping on a light breeze. “A… are you asking me to get dinner with you?”

They roll their eyes, but their smile doesn’t falter. “Don’t flatter yourself, Hunter. We should get inside, it’s getting dark.”

She purses her lips in faux contemplation, her eyes sparkling in the pending darkness. “Very well, but  _you’re_  paying.”

They laugh, the noise choking as she falls in step at their side, pushing her arm through theirs and holding on  _tight_.

She’s warm, nestled close, the smell of something sweet filling their nostrils. “Who do you think I am? I’m nothing if not generous,” August says, biting their lip at her answering scoff.

“That’s the thing, Enforcer, I don’t know who you are,” she mutters. “But I look forward to finding out.”


	80. Future (Finn x Hunter)

A smirk hooks the corner of Finn’s mouth a the Hunter enters the room, bare and beautiful after stripping off all that armour, scrubbing the stale blood and dirt from his skin.

He rolls his eyes at Finn, at the sight of  _that_  smile, but the Vampire can hear his pulse quicken, can smell and see the rush of colour that sweeps across his cheeks.

“Come here,” he whispers, and the Hunter goes willingly, as if he’s thralled, no hesitation as he falls with abandon into cold arms.

They lay down upon dark sheets, the Hunter running his fingers in circles upon the smattering of dark hair that coats Finn’s chest, his head resting against a broad shoulder.

Sometimes the Hunter swears he can read Finn’s thoughts, as if somehow he’s gained that impossible power, but on nights like this, he sees nothing.

“Tell me,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to his scarred skin, to the place where iron messily melds with flesh. “What’re you thinking?”

“Nothing,” he says, turning onto his side, laying face to face with him and culling a big hand to his cheek. “Absolutely nothing.”

The Hunter scoffs at that, reaching up to swipe his thumb over the frown that’s settled between dark brows as if he can swipe it away. “Finnegan…”

“I’ve… I’ve been thinking the future, about  _our_  future.”

The Hunter’s heart hammers violently against his rib cage, and Finn’s golden eyes widen at the sound of it. He swallows thickly, brain quick-firing scattered thoughts.

He knows of the loves that Finn has lost, knows what he needs, what he  _deserves_ , and yet…

He also knows that he could die tomorrow.

Perks of the job.

Finn breaks the unbearable silence, those eyes still burning brightly in flickering candlelight. “Do we have one, or should I just move on?”

It’s a trick question, one that the Hunter cannot answer, and he suspects Finn knows this, but he loves deeply, irrevocably, with  _everything_  he has.

“I love you,” the Hunter says, meaning it with every fibre of his being, never more sure of anything in his relatively brief existence. “I’ll love you as long as this life will allow it.”

Finn runs his thumb along his cheekbone, a fond look in his eyes, a look of understanding. He leans in to capture his lips in a kiss. It’s quick, gentle, but still leaves the Hunter’s toes curling against the sheets.

“I can work with that.”


	81. Hold Me (Omen x Alkar)

Omen often doesn’t know how to act around Alkar, and yet he finds himself falling hopelessly in love anyway.

The most confusing creature in all of Lunaris.

The Lycan paces, hands in his hair, ears twitching, and all Omen can do is stand by and watch nervously.

His tails wraps around his own hand, an unconscious gesture, his own body telling him what Alkar needs even though his mind hasn’t quite comprehended it yet.

Alkar skids to a stop, his fist connecting with stone, knuckles coming away bloody as he recoils. Omen is by his side in an instant, brow furrowed as he cradles Alkar’s hand in his palm, warm, impossibly gentle.

“Hey, that hurts,” Alkar hisses, Omen curiously pressing the angry wound, blood on his fingertips.

“Sorry,” he whispers, still holding him, Alkar not pulling away.

Angry scarlet eyes meet Omen’s friendly chestnut, and Alkar softens.

Omen remembers what Finn told him, to be patient, to be there for him even if it’s in silence.

“What can I do?”

Alkar’s breath catches, an unmissable hitch. He closes his eyes, breaking their gaze. “Hold me.”

“Wh—“

“Just for a bit, okay?” He snaps, as if he’s annoyed with himself for needing it. “I… I need someone to hold me.”

Omen doesn’t hesitate, winding his arms around his waist, resting his head against his chest.

He sinks into Alkar’s warmth, holding tight,  _squeezing_ , and eventually Alkar relaxes too, holds him close, a chin upon the top of Omen’s head.


	82. Loving (Finn x Ezra)

He’s known Finn little more than a few months, but his heart sings each and every time he sees him enter the room.

The best thing is, is that Finn can hear it.

He knows by the way his lips curl at the corners when he hears the telltale flutter, the rush, the pulse.

Ezra feels his cheeks heat, and Finn gazes at him fondly, a cold finger tracing the dark smattering of freckles that sweep across the perfect bridge of his nose. “I’ll do anything to make you blush, to see this,” he whispers.

He curls against Finn like a cat, and he’s one gentle caress away from purring like one too. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Finn hums his approval, arms tightening around him, running his nose along the column of his throat, Ezra’s breath quickening, the anticipation building,  _building_ …

Finn pulls away, eyes closed, a hiss from between clenched teeth, something akin to a growl rumbling deep and primal in his chest, and Ezra flinches.

“Finn?”

“I… sorry,” he groans, disentangling himself from Ezra, pushing away from the tiny sofa and pacing the kitchenette, hands in his hair.

Ezra straightens his clothes, sitting straight, hands in his lap as he tries to ignore the sting of tears in his eyes.

_What did I do?_

Finn hears, head snapping up, and then he’s on his knees before him, taking his hands in his own. “You didn’t do anything,” he says, fierce, eyes burning. “It’s me.”

Ezra quietly clears his throat, tentatively reaching out, cupping a hand to his face. “Tell me.”

He steels his gaze, fierce, determined, and Finn sighs loudly. “I’m… I’m not used to being close like that without…  _you know_ ,” he says, a flash of fang. “It’s been a while since I was like this with someone.”

_Oh._

“It’s okay,” Ezra smiles, relieved that that’s all it is, that he hasn’t done anything wrong. “I’ll help you. Come here, come back to me.”

Finn goes willingly, Ezra falling into his embrace as he settles against the old cushions. “I don’t want to hurt you, to scare you.”

Ezra’s smile grows a little wider, fingers pushing into raven hair, scratching at his scalp. “There is nothing you could do to make me love you any less. Okay?”

Finn nods, smiling at the casual declaration, never bored of the sound of that word falling from Ezra’s lips. “Okay.”


	83. The Lovers (Finn x Gabriel)

It’s moments like there where Finn can do little to resist dreaming about a future with Gabriel. 

He sees infinite lazy mornings, limbs a tangle beneath sleep-warm sheets, fingers laced, lashes fluttering open to find one another. Endless pools of silver meeting warm gold. Just as they are now, _exactly_  like this. 

He runs the back of his hand down his arm, his sun-kissed skin littered with dark freckles, so  _warm_ , impossibly inviting. 

Gabriel stirs, rubbing his face against his pillow and reluctantly cracking an eyelid, his nose crinkled in protest, more freckles sweeping across it’s bridge. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

Finn edges closer, and Gabriel can’t quite stay cross at him, not with that stupid,  _charming_ smirk. “Finnegan,” he sighs, pushing a hand into his hair, toying with sleep-mussed raven curls. “A terror, is what you are.” 

“You love me really,” Finn teases, pausing, heart hammering in his chest at _that_ word, the word they haven’t spoken, the one that makes all of this _real_. 

Gabriel swallows loudly, the smile fading from his face, the fingers that scratch Finn’s scalp stilling. 

Finn shakes his head quickly, fakes a laugh, a dismissive huff. “I didn’t…” 

They both lay in silence, staring, waiting, for  _what_ Finn isn’t exactly sure. 

_Love._

Is this love? 

Quiet nights with whiskey poured over ice, sitting under stars and watching the world go by, kisses stolen in alleyways, making love in this bed until they can’t feel their toes, cups of sweet tea in the mornings. 

He wants it all, doesn’t want this to end. 

“I love you, Gabriel,” he whispers, gaze firm, fixed on shining silver. 

The little hitch in Gabriel’s breath doesn’t go unnoticed, and Finn finds himself  _not_ breathing, his heart picking up speed again, thrumming so violently he’s sure it’ll beat right out of the cage of his ribs. 

Gabriel’s fingers leave his hair, moving down, soft over temple and cheek, then he’s pressing his thumb to Finn’s lips, tracing the curve of them, that cupids bow. 

He frowns a little, the slightest crinkle between his brows, and then he’s leaning in and capturing Finn’s mouth in a kiss that feels nothing like all the others that came before. 

Tongue moves against tongue, bare bodies pressing closer,  _closer_ ,and Finn all but forgets his declaration as they lose themselves in one another. 

A hand at the small of his back, another cupping his jaw, and Finn pulls back, blinking away that lustful haze that’s settled over him, ignoring the way his skin prickles. “Gabe…” 

“I love you too,” Gabriel rasps. “I  _love_  you, Finnegan.” 

Gabriel moves quickly, rolling until he’s above him, sitting astride his waist. He’s smiling, wide and  _beautiful,_ the messy gold of his hair like a halo around his head as the sun shines behind him through gauzy curtains.  

Finn exhales sharply, returning his smile, his cheeks  _aching_  it’s so big, so earnest. Hands travel over the curves of him, down his spine, hips, resting upon his thighs.

“I want to be with you, just like this. Always,” Gabriel says, his palms planted upon Finn’s chest, fingers feeling the dark smattering of hair there. He leans in, pressing his forehead against Finn’s. “Forever.” 

“So, a long time, then,” Finn teases, the words mumbled against Gabriel’s lips as he rolls his eyes and shuts him up with a kiss. 

Right now not even  _forever_  sounds like it’s enough, Finn thinks. 


	84. Enigma (Piper x Hunter)

Piper is an enigma, a hurricane, and once she has you in her sights there’s no shaking yourself loose. 

As if you’d ever _want to_. 

She walks into the bedroom, shamelessly naked after her bath. Her skin is finally clean of blood and grime, long hair swinging about her waist, and she’s  _devastating_. “Those guts took a little longer than necessary to get out of my hair. I think I’ll feel dirty for a week.” 

The Hunter huffs a laugh, settling back against the headboard, a towel lazily draped over her torso, sheets soft beneath her. “That’s good to know,” she smiles, skin prickling as Piper fixes her with that dark sapphire gaze. 

She kneels at the end of the bed, crawling forward until she’s comfortable between the Hunters legs, bottom lip tugged between her teeth. She may have made a kill tonight, but she looks pretty hungry for another. 

Piper flattens her palms against the Hunters thighs, spreading them, eyes falling down,  _down_ , a quiet groan catching in the back of her throat. “Can I?” 

The Hunter nods, and she’d be mad to deny her, mad to say no. “ _Yes_ …” 

A gentle swirl of her thumb, the tentative first swipe of her tongue, and she has the Hunter gasping, arching up off the mattress seeking  _more_. A languid circle, Piper tracing her name against her, smiling against slick skin as she inches back and pushes a finger inside, eliciting a broken whimper from the Hunter.

“Stay still,” Piper purrs, flattening her free hand upon her stomach, holding her against the mattress with little effort. That digit pumps in and out, a perfect glide, and she adds a second, Piper watching intently as her breasts move with the desperate little hitches of her hips. “Fuck. You’re  _perfect,_ aren’t you?”  

She leans in again, unable to stay away, needing another taste. Her breath is  warm against her wetness, and the Hunter  _aches_  for her, a knot in her spine, spreading and curling, weaving it’s way through every nerve ending until she’s on  _fire_. 

She plants her heel against the mattress, pushing as Piper expertly coaxes her orgasm out of her, calling out her name as she catches sight of that familiar, satisfied smirk. 

The Hunter tries to claw back a steady breath, but Piper’s mouth is on hers before she can manage, tongues a slick tangle.

Piper tastes like sin. 


	85. Safe (Finn x Hunter)

They fall into his arms with a gasping breath, relief nearly choking them as he holds them tight, a little _too_  tight as if he means to never let them go again.

He pushes his nose into their hair, breathes them in, each of them taking a moment to bask in one another’s presence. 

Finn takes their face in his hands, pulling away to get a good look at them, checking for injury, golden eyes finally settling as they fix them with a firm gaze. “What happened? Where  _were_  you? I had the Clan scouring the woods, I… I thought you were gone.” 

They swallow away the thick lump that’s formed in their throat, the only thing they can truly think about now is how relieved they are, how  _lucky_  they are to have him waiting, worrying. “It was just another mission, Finn. You shouldn’t worry so much,” they smile, reaching up to cover his cold hands with their warm. 

He stares at them incredulously, shakes his head, and then he’s leaning in to press their lips together. It’s slow, tender, and it lingers long after they’ve parted.

He stays close, thumbs brushing over cheeks that are kissed pink from the cold, forehead to forehead. “I’m just glad you’re safe. I wouldn’t know what to do if I lost you.”  


	86. Aftercare (Finn x Ezra NSFW)

Whenever Finn is with Ezra it’s like a madness overtakes him, something primal and urgent, something not _human._

He fights the urge to tug when his fingers coil into dark curls. He fights the urge to bite down on kiss-swollen lips and taste the copper-sweet blood that would coat his tongue. He fights the urge to suck bruises into russet skin and mark him in every way he possibly can. 

But the moment Ezra gasps beneath him, all of that supposedly iron-clad resolve seems to melt away.

It terrifies him, how much he wants him, how he could hurt him with the simplest of touches. The control he’s sustained over these last few centuries wavers with Ezra, and tonight is no exception.  

Fingers dig into his skin, pulling him closer, the noises that fall from the Witches lips  _desperate_  as he loses his mind beneath him.

_Harder, please. Finn…_

Finn growls, hating the noise as it tears from his throat, but he obliges and pushes deeper into the eager,  _tight_  clench of his body, harder, faster, anything he wants.  

Ezra loses his breath, his face twisted in his pleasure, beautiful, beautiful,  _beautiful_. 

It’s wild, quick, brutal, all of the things that Ezra pleads for in the rapidly firing thoughts that flow through his mind. 

Toes curled, breath quick, sweat beading upon his skin, and Finn watches as he falls apart, laying beneath him in a boneless, sated sprawl. 

He rolls away, lays beside him and listens to the quicksilver thrum of his heart, and it’s fast,  _too fast._ Finn turns to cup his face in big hands, staring into blown-black, unfocused emerald eyes. “Ezra…” 

The lazy smile that crosses his lips is nothing short of gorgeous, but as Finn looks a little closer he can see where he’s kissed him too hard, where his fangs sunk deep into the column of his throat, where fingertips have bruised his hips, waist, thighs. 

He groans, thumbs stroking over still-flushed cheekbones. “I’m sorry. I… fuck. I’m _sorry_.”

Ezra scrambles to sit up, reaching for him where he pulls away, and the little hiss of pain as he moves doesn’t go unnoticed. “Hey, what are you sorry for?” 

A warm hand upon his face, another upon his chest as Ezra lazily drapes himself over him, impossible to ignore, impossible to resist. Finn splays his iron palm over the base of his spine, sighing heavily as Ezra looks up at him with wide, curious eyes, waiting for a response.

“I hurt you. I lost control.” 

Ezra snorts a laugh, the noise causing Finn to quirk a dark brow in question. “Finn,” he whispers, reaching up to brush a lock of raven hair back from his face. “You know I like that, right? That I asked you, that I… I  _need_  that, sometimes?” 

Finn narrows his golden eyes, earning a quiet laugh from Ezra, a swat to his chest. “You’ll hear no lies in there, Finnegan,” he purrs, edging closer, nose to nose. “Now, come here and _stop_ pouting. I’m fine,  _more_  than fine.”

He kisses Finn with reverence, with love, swallowing the quiet little noises that form on the tip of Ezra’s tongue, holding him close. He feels something kindling, in the pit of his stomach, a renewed interest as Ezra writhes against him. 

He breaks away, eyes meeting Ezra’s, a question.

Ezra’s answering kiss says all he needs to know, the not-so-subtle clues of his body and mind making him forget every apprehension he has. 

The way their mouths move together is demanding, frightening,  _perfect,_ and Finn willingly loses himself all over again.


	87. Warmth (Omen x Hunter)

The bed in their room at the Wolf is… unimpressive.

The mattress shifts noisily with even the slightest movement, and there’s a crack in the window that lets the bitter Lunaris air inside.

The Hunter lays awake, counting the cracks in the stonework for what feels like the thousandth time.

Omen turns beside them, and he’s fast asleep, utterly and infuriatingly at peace. They twist to face him, smiling to themselves as his nose twitches, pretty hair falling in his face.

They reach to brush it aside, tucking it behind a pointed ear, and his eyes flutter open reluctantly. “Hnm. Wh… are you okay?”

They can’t resist, edging closer and tangling their legs together, arms around his waist, his tail curling at their hip. They tuck their head beneath his chin, wrapped up in him, enveloped in warmth and just…  _Omen_.

He lets out a soft chuckle, strong arms settling around them, squeezing. They fit together so perfectly, and he makes them feel safe, cherished.

“Are you warm enough?” He whispers, a kiss pressed to the crown of their head, temple, cheek.

They nod, nuzzling closer as they feel sleep pulling at them, smirking as they mumble a quiet, “No fire required.”


	88. Hurt (Finn x Hunter)

He braces himself against the pain, Ezra’s healing hands doing little to quell the blinding burn where the creatures claws slashed deep.

Teeth clenched, eyes wide and watery, and the noise that tears from the back of his throat as sinew and skin try to knit back together sounds almost inhuman.

Ezra throws him an apologetic glance, but he continues his spell, fingers glowing a comforting green-blue. He’s covered in blood, they both are, and the Hunter is counting down the seconds before the inevitable arrival of his lover.

As if by magic, the door to the shop flies open, almost splintering under the weight of Finn’s heavy boot. Ezra tenses, drops his gaze, and the Hunter knows he’s in for a scolding.

He falls to his knees beside them where they’ve settled upon Ezra’s now-ruined rug, cold hands reaching out to grab his face. His golden eyes are glowing, frantic as they search him, assessing the damage to his chest, stomach, leg.

He growls, the noise making the Hunter shiver, and not in a good way. “Who did this? Who hurt you?”

His nostrils flare, jaw clenched, and the Hunter can tell he’s struggling with the blood, unsurprising considering how much there is.

He almost wants to laugh, but thinks that’s probably not a good idea, and most definitely thanks to the incredible blood-loss. “It was the Demon from the other night, the one we fai—“

Finn stands quickly, hands balled into tight fists at his side, his prosthetic glowing fiercely, eyes darkening, the pallid skin beneath them purpling, vivid veins blooming.

“ _Finnegan_ ,” Ezra shouts, and it’s the first time the Hunter has ever heard him raise his voice. “He needs you, do not abandon him. Get a hold of yourself,” he hisses, the glow of his magic flickering violently, settling when he takes a deep breath.

The Hunter stares up at Finn, longs for his touch, his comfort, and Finn feels it, the link between them thrumming, curling and twisting around both of them like vines.

 _I need you, I do._  Finn softens immediately, returning to his side and laces their fingers together, squeezing tightly. “I’m sorry. I just…” he pauses, swallowing loudly, and the Hunter knows the burn in the back of his throat must be unbearable by now. “I love you, I can’t stand to see you like this. That creature will pay. I’ll tear them apart with my bare hands.”

“He’s going to be fine,” Ezra says, moving to the next wound.

Finn relaxes thanks to that reassurance, leaning in, forehead to forehead. His closeness is intoxicating,  _dizzying_ , and the Hunter smiles softly.

“A kiss would help, you know?”

Finn huffs an incredulous laugh, closing that unbearable gap with a kiss that the Hunter is sure heals him better than any spell ever could.


	89. More Than (Finn x Ezra NSFW)

Ezra turns the lock on the shop door, relief washing over him at the familiar click, the sound that ends a busy day. He hums to himself, fussing with clearing the counter, popping books back in their rightful place, and with a click of his fingers the room is bathed in candlelight. 

He smiles to himself, a coy thing as he hears the telltale creak of the hatch in the back room, heavy footsteps that hold a promise as they creep closer. He’s caught each and every time he sees him, sees  _that_  smile, and he reaches out, fingers wiggling, waiting to be held. 

Finn steps close, looking at him like he hung the stars, just like he always does. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but Ezra wraps his fist in the front of his shirt and  _pulls_ , emboldened by a stressful day, looking for a way to work out all of this tension. 

Ezra kisses Finn like he might die without it, like it’s the only thing that could possibly keep him breathing. 

“Ezra,” Finn mumbles, smiling against eager lips, and those golden eyes burn,  _hungry_  as Ezra looks up at him. 

“Yes?” He grins, lashes aflutter, and he knows exactly what he’s doing, knows what Finn likes, what he  _needs_. 

Finn shakes his head, wets his lips, a thumb brushing over Ezra’s cheekbone, feeling the warmth that spreads as a flush blossoms in the wake of his touch. He leans in, and he’s caught, kissing him deeply,  _growling_  low in his throat when Ezra presses close with a needy writhe of his hips. 

Hands find Ezra’s waist, and Finn walks him backwards until they find a surface, the bookcase rattling as they make heavy contact. Finn pushes his leg between Ezra’s thighs, the most subtle but desired pressure as Ezra breaks the kiss, tilting his head to the side in invitation. 

“What’s the meaning of this,” Finn whispers, running his nose along the tense column of his throat, lips finding his fluttering pulse, and Ezra groans as he flattens his tongue and  _licks_. 

He claws at the back of Finn’s shirt, fingers scrambling for purchase. “I…  _need_. I just thought we could do a little more than kissing right now,  _please_?”

He finds the hem of Finn’s shirt, pulling it up and over his head and throwing it to the floor, dragging blunt nails through the smattering of dark hair upon his chest, down over his stomach,  _lower,_ popping the buttons of his trousers and spreading them open. 

Finn goes where he’s led, turned by eager hands until he’s the one pressed back against the protesting shelves, bottles clinking as he grips at the wood, and Ezra falls to his knees. 

He stares at Ezra with wonder, affection, a hand in dark curls as Ezra takes him in his hand, feels him thick, hard, _pulsing_  against his palm. “ _Ezra_ ,” he purrs, his name a plea as Ezra laves his tongue over the crown, tasting the salt of him. 

A hand around the base that moves in time with his mouth, a signature warmth and wetness, hollowed cheeks and eager tongue, all the perfect concoction to make Finn fall to pieces. 

He doesn’t take his eyes off him, _can’t_ , fingers moving down from his hair to trace the line of his cheek, his jaw, feeling muscle twitch beneath dark skin. A ragged moan is drawn from him as Ezra takes him deep, swallowing around his cock as he comes, and not a single drop is wasted. 

It’s just what Ezra needs,  _needed_ , the thrill of making him come undone, the  _power_  that comes with it even if he is supplicant and on his knees, praying at Finn’s altar. He sucks in a deep breath, panting, lips swollen as he smiles, pressing a kiss to the v of his hips before he stands. 

“Come here,” Finn smirks, and with those words Ezra knows that this is just the beginning, a prelude, that there’s always more, more, _more_. 


	90. Not Afraid (Finn x Hunter)

They hadn’t argued before, all moments leading up to this a simple swirl of bliss, pleasure, comfort.

Finn has never been overprotective, has never questioned the Hunter’s capability, but this?

This hurt.

“Why would you think something like that? Why would you just… just…”

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” Finn snaps, fists clenched at his sides, eyes wild and alight in the dull flicker of flame.

He looks furious,  _fierce_ , and for the first time in a while the Hunter is reminded that he is exactly the kind of thing he’s supposed to kill.

Deadly, a monster.

He swallows the lump that forms in his throat, tries to stop the involuntary tremble in his fingers. He steps forward, reaching for Finn’s wrist, every instinct inside him screaming at him to run instead, but he knows deep down that Finn would never hurt him.

As he gets closer he sees angry tears streaking pallid cheeks, tinged crimson and yet somehow still so strikingly beautiful.

Finn softens as skin finds skin, the tense set of his broad shoulders gone, the tight clench of his jaw loose.

“Then tell me.  _Help_  me,” he whispers, a traitorous break in his voice, his body not quite catching up to his mind or heart.

_We’re not afraid of him._

Finn growls, a primal sound, inherently not human as he reaches up to cup the Hunter’s face between his palms. “I will not lose you.”

The Hunter exhales a shuddering breath, the weight with which Finn spoke those words staggering, shameless emotion seeping from every syllable. “Finn, I…”

“I…” Finn says, eyes clenched tightly shut, and he holds his face a little tighter, thumbs brushing over cheekbones, so painfully gentle it makes the Hunter ache. “I will not.”

The Hunter curls his grip around Finn’s wrists, carefully prying his hands from his face, lacing their fingers together. He dips his face, tries to catch his gaze as dark lashes flutter open. “Hey. I’m not going anywhere.”

Finn’s brow crinkles, but it’s not a frown, it’s… sadness. He huffs a quiet laugh, a nervous thing, a thing that says,  _‘I’ve lost so much, I can’t take any more’._

“That’s what they all say, Hunter.”


	91. Always Enough (August x Hunter)

August has thought the phrase many times, keeping it locked away, something they know but cannot share.

Instead they speak the words in the form of a smile, with a simple touch of their fingertips.

They watch him in his sleep, those dark lashes, lips parted, fingers laced and limbs tangled beneath the sheets. They allow themselves to feel exposed with him, a frayed nerve, vulnerable.

In the morning, the Hunter wakes reluctantly, blinking sleep from his eyes to find August awake beside him, waiting, watching.

Sun shines through a crack in the curtains, dust motes swirling in its rays, hitting the bed and warming their skin. August moves closer, seeking his embrace, humming contentedly as he holds them tight against his chest.

He catches August’s adoring gaze, and there’s something different shining in those blue eyes today, something deeply rooted,  _precious_.

He kisses them, fingertips finding that small scar upon their shoulder blade, the one that they got when they were a child, and he remembers the way that they smiled as they told him how.

He can feel their heart beating against his chest, the quicksilver flutter of it, quickening as those fingertips find their spine, tracing the curve.

He knows that they struggle to unlock those words, and yet they’d feel so simple once spoken,  _obvious_ , even.

Obvious in the way they glance at one another, the way their fingers fit together, the quick kisses that turn into something ravenous and unstoppable, something  _more_.

“August,” they whisper, voice hoarse from sleep, or maybe from the feel of their lips, teeth, tongue. “I love you, I hope that you know that.”

The hitch in their breath tells him they do, but they don’t believe it, maybe won’t even let themselves.

Flushed cheeks and a curled smile, and August holds him a little tighter, nodding once, twice, the third followed with a kiss.

August doesn’t say it in return, doesn’t need to, because as lip finds lip, the Hunter just…  _knows_.

Knowing is always enough.


	92. Warm Enough (Finn x Hunter)

Waves lap against the rotting wood of the dock, their feet dangling idly over the water.

He keeps his distance, knowing that he won’t be very helpful with keeping away the chill of this cold Autumn night.

But, oh, the temptation.

She stares out at the horizon, arms wrapped around herself, holding the coat that  
he’s draped over her shoulders closed.

A shiver, teeth chattering, bones aching.

He sighs, edging closer, and she smiles up at him as he knocks against her. “Are you warm enough? I’m afraid I’m not very useful this time of year.”

She makes a quiet, dismissive noise, resting her head upon a broad shoulder, the point of contact as scorching and delightful as always. “You’re useful for more important things than just keeping me warm.”

He snorts, mind in the gutter as usual, and she playfully elbows him in the ribs. That earns her a fake, ‘ouch’, just to make her feel good about herself.

She tilts her head, smile wide and beautiful, and her cheeks are kissed pink, her nose too. “If making you blush will warm you, I’ll just have to do it all the more often.”


	93. Switch (Finn x Ezra NSFW)

Ezra’s fingers walk over the dip and curve of Finn’s muscles, over rib, tracing the dark crescent moon etched upon his chest. Finn growls, impatient, but Ezra doesn’t take his eyes off that bared expanse of perfect, pale skin.

 _He_  is the hunter tonight, and Finn the prey.

Emerald locks with burning gold, and Ezra leans in, lips tracing the shell of a pointed ear, littering kisses over his jaw until finds his waiting lips. He stakes his claim, teeth and tongue and  _eager_.

It’s possessive, a taste of Finn’s own perfectly crafted medicine as he nips and sucks at the flesh of his throat. He may not have fangs or teeth that can draw blood from a Vampire’s skin, but he has the most wonderful time trying.

He reaches up and cups Finn’s face in his hands, pausing to look at him,  _really_  look at him, and then he’s kissing him deeply, as if his lips could quench a desperate thirst.

“Ezra,” Finn purrs, his name dying on the tip of his tongue, and Ezra is enthralled with the way it feels so different when  _he’s_ the one swallowing a broken plea.

He pulls back, wondering how Finn’s too-perfect face would look kissed pink, if colour could bloom beneath his cheeks, at his chest.

Finn huffs a sharp laugh, hearing those skittering thoughts, his fingers twitching where they’ve settled upon Ezra’s waist. “If I could blush, I’d be beet red. Just for you.”

Ezra smiles, biting his lip in the way he knows drives Finn mad, pushing the soft pad of his thumb against a sharp fang as he opens his mouth for him, Finn _hissing_ as a tiny droplet of blood is smeared across his bottom lip, tongue flicking out to swipe away the crimson.

He’s been deviant all day, winding Ezra up at any given opportunity. Soft, light touches, quick kisses that linger, whispered words, filthy promises. It’s been painful, a deep ache rooted in the pit of Ezra’s stomach, one he now intends to quell.

Finn watches as Ezra runs a hand over a firm thigh, the shift of corded muscle beneath his skin almost making the Witch snap, making  _him_  want to be the one bent over, to feel that powerful body behind him,  _inside_  him.

Instead he clings to his resolve, urging Finn to turn, to dutifully fall to his knees just as he promised he would if Ezra ever needed it this badly.

The curve of his spine, the swell of his ass, a chill rolling over him when he remembers what it is that he’s about to do. He positions himself, careful, steady, Finn looking at him over his shoulder, that wicked glint still present in his gaze until Ezra surges forward.

Another growl, a primal thing as Ezra sheaths himself to the hilt, his eyes rolling back in his head as he becomes acquainted with the way Finn feels around him.

Like a welcome chill on a summers day, somehow still scorching,  _blinding_  no matter how cold he truly is.

Finn is perfect, deliciously  _tight_ , and his hips start to move in a teasing little rhythm, a stuttered groan in Ezra’s throat as he somehow claws back his control, even as Finn greedily fucks himself on Ezra’s cock.

“Come on, Ezra,” he says, reaching between his legs to curl iron fingertips around his length, stroking, pumping. “You said you wanted to make me forget my name, and yet I still remember…”

Ezra is the one growling now, determined as he begins to move with purpose, punishing thrusts that he knows would knock the air from Finn’s lungs if he could breathe.

Finn laughs, a low, throaty chuckle as Ezra hits that spot that makes his toes curl. “Unh… that’s it, do that again.”

Ezra’s eyes flutter closed as he obliges, banishing the sight of Finn beneath him from his sight, lest he completely lose himself.

Too fast, too  _good_.

“F-fuck, Finn… I…”

A deep pleasure, a  _power_  stirs within when he feels Finn tighten around him, leaning in to press kisses to the knobs of his spine as the Vampire strokes himself to his finish with a loud choked-off cry.

He reaches for Finn’s chin, tugging at him so he can see his face as he comes, to match his expression with that sinful noise, the noise that makes his toes curl against the sheets.

There’s a self-satisfied smirk on his lips when Ezra begins to falter, sweat beading at his brow as he reaches out, a hand around Finn’s neck, lips at his shoulder.

“You feel so good,” he mutters, meaning it, wondering how anyone could possibly be this perfect, waiting for a cocky, ‘I know,’ to fall from those full lips, but it doesn’t come.

It’s difficult now to keep his eyes open, a strangled noise in the back of his throat, breath heavy, mouth open, and he looks deep into Finn’s eyes as he lets go.

Finn groans his approval, wetness across his thighs as Ezra slowly pulls away, hands soothing over his spine, admiring the rare sight before him.

“ _Fuck_ , Finnegan,” Ezra smirks, fingertips numb, stars still bursting behind his eyelids as he collapses against Finn’s chest. Boneless, sated.

Finn holds him close, listens to his rapidly thrumming pulse return to normal, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose as he drifts off.


	94. In His Skin (Finn x Gabriel)

Finn splashes cold water onto his face, gripping the edge of the basin as he stares at himself in the weathered mirror. He looks tired, maybe a little thin, but for the first time in as long as he can remember he looks  _happy_.

He’s in love, sick with it, and though he’s only just torn himself away from warm sheets and an even warmer body, everything inside him is screaming to return.

The old door creaks, and familiar arms wind around his waist, hands slipping under his shirt. “Hmm,  _this_  is mine,” Gabriel says, trying his very hardest to sound annoyed, but the way curious fingertips trace the sharp wings of his hipbones tells a very different story.

Finn smiles, pushing back into his welcome embrace. “I have nothing here other than my uniform, I thought you’d be terribly bored of all that awful green by now.”

Gabriel hums, closing his eyes as he presses his lips to his shoulder, throat, jaw. He’s always so  _warm_ , burning bright like the sun, his kisses like fire against Finn’s perpetually cool skin. “Maybe you should move your things here, I’m sure I could find some room for my favourite person.”

His hands continue to drift over rib and abdomen, silver eyes locking with Finn’s gold in the mirror, an innocent smile as if he  _hadn’t_  just asked Finn to move in with him.

“You… you’re serious?” Finn whispers, looking for a falter, waiting for the ‘joke’.

But Gabriel shrugs, his smile growing a little wider as he finds the waistband of Finn’s underwear, running a teasing thumb beneath the elastic. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Finn shivers as those hands dip lower, nails lightly scoring over his thighs, trying to distract. “Gabe…”

That dismissive hum again, and Gabriel is getting lost, burying his nose into the soft raven hair that curls at the nape of Finn’s neck, breathing him in.

Finn grips the basin harder, knuckles bleeding white, his thoughts firing double time, and the thought of spending every morning like this is more than tempting.

“Well?” Gabriel purrs, lips pressed to his ear, his gaze mischievous, but earnest. “Move in with me, Finnegan,” he chuckles, as if he’s exasperated by the fact that Finn needs to hear those solidifying words to make it real.

Finn quickly turns in his arms, big hands gripping his shoulders, fixing his gaze, and he smiles. “I… okay.  _Yes_.”

Gabriel let’s out a little laugh, a joyful noise, one that Finn would do anything to hear again and again. He takes hold of the collar of Finn’s shirt, of  _his_  shirt, and reels him in for a kiss that feels a lot like a promise.

They break apart, forehead to forehead, nose to nose. “I love you,” Finn whispers, eyes shining with wonder as Gabriel’s striking silver gaze meets his once more.

“I love you too, Finnegan.”


	95. I See You (Finn x Hunter)

The Hunter feels cool fingertips upon their shoulder, gooseflesh prickling in their wake. A shudder, a shake, and then they’re (trying) to close the cover without it looking like a scramble once they find their composure.

He’s good at making them forget where they are, what they’re doing.

“Why are you hiding? Will you let me see?”

They huff a laugh, his hand in their hair now, stroking gently, a rasp against their scalp that makes their toes curl. “I don’t think so.”

He kneels beside them now, and they try not to look, even as he turns them to face him in the chair, hands at their waist.

Abandon all hope, ye who stare into those golden eyes.

They sigh at his sorry look, at the perfect pout that he produces, handing him the sketchbook.

He sits upon the floor, legs crossed, eyes flickering over pencil and ink, a smile playing at the edge of his lips as he pauses on a page with a familiar subject.

“You drew  _me_?”

They feel their cheeks flush,  _burn_ , sliding onto the floor in front of him as they pry the book from reluctant hands. “You’re the perfect subject, how could I not? It doesn’t… it’s not…”

He grabs their face in big hands, holding them steady. “You’re amazing,” he proclaims, and the passion in his voice almost makes them believe him.


	96. With You (August x Hunter)

August stands behind their desk, long fingers pressed to their temple, their other hand upon the desk, resting upon the pages of his report.

The Hunter takes a seat, uninvited but  _exhausted_ , utterly wrung-out, and if he’s going to get scalded, then he’s going to be comfortable.

August worries their bottom lip between their teeth as they catch his gaze, their anger always unnervingly quiet, calm, perfectly curated until it’s not.

August says his name, and they’re Enforcer Willenheim for now, stern, stoic. “What you did was incredibly stupid, not to mention dangerous.”

Disappointment rolls off of them in waves, and it  _hurts_.

The fingers that linger at their temple move to pinch the bridge of their nose, and he feels an insurmountable guilt over August’s exhaustion, knowing he’s wholly responsible for their discomfort.

“Will you let me explain?” He says, looking up into sad blue eyes, selfishly wondering when his superior will fade, and when his lover will take their place.

August rounds their desk, standing before him, a safe distance. It’s as if they don’t quite know what to do with themselves, stuck between being so  _bloody_  angry and wanting to kiss him and tell him how happy they are that he’s okay.

They fold their arms across heir chest, and the standoffish pose doesn’t quite suit them. They tap the toe of their boot against stone, and they steel their gaze. “Do not disobey my orders again,” they hiss, cheeks turning red, and he swears he sees tears forming in their eyes.

“Punish me if you will, but I will not apologise for saving the life of the person I love!”

August throws him a wide-eyed look as he raises his voice, his passion getting the best of him, knuckles bleeding white where he grips the arm of the chair.

They drop their arms to their sides, hands balled into fists. “Do  _not_ ,” they say, teeth clenched, but they’re unable to finish, closing their eyes tight, a laugh that edges on manic bubbling forth from their lips.

August quickly closes the small distance between them, falling to their knees in front of him, hands on his thighs. “I have consistently been told by those I love the most that I’m incapable of…” they pause, words wavering. “That I’m incapable of looking after myself, of saving others. You stepping in front of me like that, it…  _it_ …”

Ah.

He hadn’t been thinking, his reaction a reflex to protect the thing he holds most dear. He knows August is capable, probably even more so than himself, but… he  _loves_  them, would die for them without a second thought.

He finds himself smiling, pushing forward out of the chair, on his knees, equal. He reaches up, the lightest touch against their cheek. “You’ve never been in love before, have you? Never  _been _loved. Truly loved.”__

August stares at him like he’s just spoken in a foreign tongue, a stray tear escaping, trailing a pale cheek. “I have. I  _am_ … now, with you.”

“Then you know why I did it. Not because I view you as a damsel in need of rescuing, but because I cannot bear the thought of living without you.”

August blinks once, twice, and then they’re surging forward, eager arms winding around his waist, face buried in the crook of his neck. “We appear to be at an impasse, then,” they mutter, holding him ever tighter as he chuckles quietly.

“That we do.”


	97. Dreaming (Finn x Hunter NSFW)

Finn enjoys watching him sleep, relishing in his little nose twitches, the way his lips move without forming words, his lashes fluttering against the tops of his cheeks.

He often has nightmares, terrible things, memories of past and present that claw their way into his mind and leave him gasping for breath.

He says that since he’s found Finn they’ve become less vivid, and so Finn lays by his side nightly, ready to chase away any demons that might break through.

Though, tonight he’s unusually still, but something else has Finn’s attention, his interest thoroughly piqued. The Hunter’s thoughts are so  _loud_  that Finn thinks he’s awake, his dream laid out in perfect clarity for his bedmate.

_Cold fingers unbuttoning his shirt, claws dragging down his chest, leaving perfect red marks in their wake. Touch pandering between shamelessly spread thighs, firm as he arches up, up, needing more. Always more._

Finn carefully sits up, moves a little closer, feeling intrusive as always, but there’s little he can do to shut out such thoughts.

Not when they’re screams.

_A hand pushes into his hair, fingers curling, tugging his head, his back arched into to sinuous bow. He’s turned on, turned around, legs shaking beneath him as Finn pushes inside._

Finn bites back a groan as he hears the telltale quickening of the Hunter’s pulse, his skin heated, toes curling beneath the sheets. His brow furrows, fingers twitching, and Finn is questioning his control, barely resisting the urge to reach out and shake him awake.

_Powerful thrusts, a shudder rolling down his spine, sparks skittering over his skin, and he feels alive, invigorated. Finn’s name is whispered like a benediction, and he kneels at his altar, pledging himself without question._

The Hunter moans, the quietest keen, and Finn is  _hard_ , watching intently, transfixed as he sees him silently spell out his name.

He shifts onto his side, reaching beneath the sheets, fingers trailing over his stomach, lower,  _lower_  until he’s curling his fingers around himself, trying to imagine that he’s sinking himself deep into the Hunter’s impossible heat.

He listens, each of his thoughts getting filthier by the second, and he can picture the Hunter bent before him, the slick sheen that coats his skin, the  _tight_  clench of him and…

Pretty eyes snap open, the Hunter turning to face him, practically panting, his cheeks kissed pink. “Finn,” he groans. “I need…”

Finn’s hands are upon him before the rest of his sentence is fully formed, fingers gripping his waist, turning him. He pulls him flush, his back pressed against Finn’s chest, the Hunter reaching to claw at his thigh as if he could somehow be closer.

“Good dream?” Finn purrs, smiling as the Hunter shudders, a full-body writhe, Finn’s teeth grazing over the juncture of his shoulder.

He reaches between his legs, the Hunter’s cock slick in his palm, throbbing,  _aching_  for him.

“I could hear you,” Finn rasps, tugging an earlobe between sharp fangs, getting off from the simple press of his cock against the Hunter’s backside, his hips stuttering as he eagerly fucks himself into Finn’s curled fist.

_Please. Please, Finnegan._

His name is an echo as he quickly coaxes the Hunter over the edge, waves crashing and breaking as he spills over his fingers, over the sheets.

Finn is quick to follow, his restraint a mere memory as the Hunter all but loses his mind against him.

He litters the Hunters throat with a trail of reverent kisses, palm splayed flat against his abdomen, keeping him close as his body shakes through his aftershocks, over-sensitive, but somehow not quite sated.

“Dreams are futile, poor imitations,” the Hunter scoffs, still catching his breath, turning lazily in Finn’s arms, catching his golden gaze. “For there truly is nothing quite like the real thing,” he groans, tangling their legs beneath the sheets, reaching to press his thumb against a fang.

He smiles, tilting his chin to catch Finn’s lips in a passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth, an unspoken promise for more,  _soon._

“If I cannot dream, I’m pleased I get to hear yours,” he smirks, running his nose along the edge of the Hunter’s sharp jaw. “You have quite the imagination, Hunter.”


	98. Unconditional (Finn x Ezra)

Ezra stands quiet in the kitchen, still, fingers curled around the handle of the whistling kettle.

Finn is hovering close, trying not to listen to his thoughts, but so badly wanting to know what he can possibly do to take this pain away from the man he loves.

Ezra continues to stare at the wall, the tiny lights that drape across the pictures Finn had painted him casting an eerie glow on his handsome face, his cheeks streaked with tears.

Finn can’t stand the incessant whistle much longer, steam violent as it spills from the kettle, and he smells  _burning_. He stands quickly, carefully prying Ezra’s palm from the scorching steel, pressing cool skin over angry red.

“Ezra, talk to me,” he whispers, bringing the injured hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles tenderly, his other arm winding around his waist.

Ezra closes his eyes tight, tight,  _tight_ , falling against Finn’s chest, fingers fisting in his shirt, and he shakes with the force of his sobs.

He threads his fingers into dark curls, pressing a kiss to his temple, just… holds him for as long as he needs it.

He has forever, after all.

He’d noticed dark circles beneath emerald eyes earlier this evening, nothing quite able to slip his notice when it comes to Ezra. He looked defeated, tired, worn-down, and yet he still plastered a smile on his lips, still stood tall and  _proud_  as he tended to customers.

The turmoil of others, no matter how simple, is always more important to Ezra than his own, and that’s something Finn struggles onto cope with. He’s too precious, too  _rare_ , and he must be cherished.

“Please don’t cry, my love,” he says, as soothing as he can muster. “Everything is going to be okay.”

Ezra relaxes his grip upon his shirt, arms reaching to wind around Finn’s neck, resting his head against a broad chest. They gently sway where they stand, unmoving from this spot in the middle of the kitchen, Coco purring her concern from the windowsill.

“I’m here,” Finn whispers, repeats it, a hollow ache blossoming deep in his chest.

Such kind things don’t deserve to suffer this sort of sorrow, and as Ezra tilts his head and fixes Finn’s gaze, he relaxes into the firm embrace, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

It’s… unconvincing, not quite meeting his eyes, but Finn can see that he’s trying. He runs his thumb over the wetness that marks his cheeks, returning the smile in kind.

There’s a letter on the table, laid open for all to see, discarded in a hurry. It’s from his Mother, her elegant script easy to recognise, a simple, ‘we miss you, visit soon’.

Finn knows how hard these words are for Ezra to read, however innocent they may appear at a glance. They hold a deeper meaning when you know of the trauma no child should ever experience, a child that saw his father torn to pieces before his young eyes.

A child that held himself responsible,  _holds_  himself responsible even now.

It’s an impossible task, convincing him otherwise, so instead Finn holds him close, and he lets him cry, and he  _loves_  him.

Unconditionally, irrevocably.


	99. Never Let Me Go (August x Hunter)

They haven’t been this deep in the woods for years, and suddenly they remember why.

They feel eyes upon them as their feet pound the forest floor, shadows moving, an unrelenting dread swirling in the pit of their stomach as unseen horrors stalk their every move.

August breaks into the clearing, their tracking spell flickering and fading as it finds its target laying amongst wet grass and rubble, and they fall to their knees, scrambling to find a pulse.

Fingers press against his throat, and there’s a weak flutter, a quiet groan.

_Please be okay. I can’t do this without you._

* * *

 

The Hunter doesn’t remember how he got here, sitting on the floor of August’s bathroom, bare apart from a soft towel draped over his waist.

Everything moves in slow motion as the world slowly rights itself, and August’s warm touch brings him back from the brink, banishing fresh memories of blood and death and…  _oh god_.

He reaches out and squeezes August’s thigh, meeting tired blue eyes, eyes that have shed many a tear already tonight, and he’s so bloody  _grateful_.

How do you convey it? The feeling that the second this person stepped foot into your life you found meaning, a reason to live outside of all this death, a spark of hope in the darkness.

August holds his face steady as they gently wipe away dried blood and dirt, neither of them uttering a word as the cloth is wrung out in water that turns crimson.

Their fingers curl at his cheeks, brushing his hair from his forehead, and there’s a glimmer of anger in their expression as they lean in to press a kiss to his lips. It’s quick, probably more reassuring than tender, seemingly just checking he really is  _here_.

“I told you not to go,” August whispers, dropping their hands to their lap, dirt beneath their usually pristine fingernails. “I told you to  _wait_.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but the tears that begin to fall down August’s pale cheeks snatch the words right from the tip of his tongue, render him speechless.

He reaches for them, not faltering when August flinches, then relaxes into his fierce embrace. He presses a kiss to the crown of their head, fingers moving in slow circles at their back, and he holds them tight, tight,  _tight_.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” August eventually rasps, hollowed out, no tears left to cry as they tilt their head, lip seeking lip.

This kiss is different than the last. It’s urgent, needy, and it cries _‘never let me go’._


	100. Stay (Alkar x Hunter)

They feel him shift beside them, the rasp of bare feet beneath crumpled sheets.

His presence is a comfort, the fact that he stayed the night for the first time making their heart stutter in their chest, but…

He’s leaving, isn’t he?

It’s four in the morning, and they turn to face him, blinking sleep from their eyes, reaching to press a tentative hand against his scarred skin, and he tenses.

“Hunter, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he mumbles, head turning but not enough to catch their gaze, scarlet eyes flashing in the darkness.

They sit, careful not to pressure him, but wanting him to stay so badly it’s like a sickness. “Alkar, please. Stay?”

He drops his head, staring down at ruined hands, skin scarred and discoloured, and they slide a palm against his own, fingers laced and held tight.

“I can’t. If anyone sees you with me…”

They shake their head, pressing lips to his shoulder, their quick kisses a promise. “I don’t care, to hell with them all.  _Stay_.”

He huffs an incredulous laugh, still staring at the place where their fingers are entwined, almost as if he can’t quite believe it. “You know nothing, Hunter.”

Despite his ominous words, he slides back beneath sleep-warm sheets, lets them wrap themselves around him, and he stays.


	101. Will Not Lose (Finn x Hunter)

He holds her close to his chest, blood slick and  _warm_  against his palms, flowing fast, too fast from the deep wound at her ribs.

He rounds the corner, just another street until Ezra’s, and…

“Finn?”

She blinks up at him, all colour drained from her face, eyes unfocused, dull. He’s been holding his breath, making sure he doesn’t get even the barest whiff of all that blood. “Shh, nearly there. Hold on, okay?”

She cries out, bending at the middle,  _clawing_  at the wound, and he skids to a stop, laying her down upon cold cobblestones as she kicks and writhes.

He pushes up the sodden, ruined fabric of her shirt, and the skin turns black,  _hard_.

Poison.

“No, no no. Come, we need to get you to Ezra’s now. No time for this,  _please_ , my love,” he chokes, words wavering, wobbling.

She reaches up and presses a hand to his face, wet against his cheek, and he’s been here before.

He’s lost love in a cold alley before, blood on stone, fingerprints on skin,  _Gabriel_.

He closes his eyes, shakes away the memory, the sting, the  _ache_.

“Turn me,” she rasps, and he can hear the rattle of her lungs with each laboured breath, wet and ready to drown her. “Finnegan, bite me,  _turn me_.”

He grabs her wrist, tugging it from his face like she’s scorched him. “No. I will not, I  _can’t_ ,” he groans, throat burning just from hearing those words. “Don’t say such things, you’re not going to die, you’re going to be fine.”

He scoops her up again, ignoring her cries of protest, and he continues through the night, seeking out that magelight lantern and healing hands.

_I will not lose another._


	102. To Touch (August x Hunter NSFW)

August is almost coy as they lead him to their bedroom…  _almost_.

He decides it’s impossible for August to look anything less than tempting to him now, a whole new meaning in the way those blue eyes lock with his as the door creaks open.

They’re kissing again without even thinking about it, naturally crashing together, a breath passed between them as he deepens the kiss, cupping August’s face in a big hand.

They sway together like that, kissing in the middle of an expensive rug before August forces him backwards, the back of his knees hitting the bed, and he falls more than willingly.

August drops to their knees before him, clever hands working at the belt and button of his trousers, head tilting upward, a silent question, and the Hunter finds their lips once again.

They’ve kissed before, many times, but here there’s something  _more_ , a promise waiting at the end of it, something intimate.

August unbuttons his shirt, spreading the fabric open, eyes hungry as they take the sight of him in, hands moving over scarred skin. He shivers as fingertips ghost over his chest, August smiling broadly. “You’re so much fun to touch,  _receptive_.”

There’s a flush on their cheeks, hair curling to frame sharp features, and the Hunter groans as they wrap their hand around the base of his cock.

He fists the sheets, a chill rolling down his spine when August looks up at him, full lips  _right there_ , so dangerously close to wrapping around the crown of him that he can almost feel the heat of their mouth already, but…

_Fuck._

Nothing could ever truly prepare him for it. The tongue that runs flat from base to tip, the bite of the fingers that grip his thighs tight, tight,  _tight_ , dark lashes a fan against pale cheeks that are kissed the most delicious dusky rose.

Their mouth is heavenly, warm,  _wet_ , tongue tasting the salt of him, humming their approval as they take him in as far as they can.

He exhales sharply, unable to resist reaching out to tug at the tie that holds their hair, pulling it free and watching as two-toned curls cascade freely over their shoulders, framing their face.

“August, if you…  _fuck_ … if you want…”

August pulls away, panting as his cock falls free of their lips. “I want.”

August stands, and the Hunter grabs their waist, tugging them close, greedy hands undressing them layer by layer, a pool of forgotten fabric at their feet as they climb into his lap.

“Let me look at you,” he whispers, and their cheeks darken further under his scrutiny, the enticing flush spilling to the top of their chest, his hands exploring, tracing the dips and peaks of their spine.

“I… you really want this? Want me?” August says quietly, confidence faltering, voice laced with trembling uncertainty.

A kiss is his reply, taking that unwarranted uncertainty and grinding it to dust as he guides them down against the mattress, a hand moving of their curve of their waist, hips, thighs.

He’s exploring, committing them to memory, promising himself that he’ll one day know their body better than his own.

His touch lingers between their thighs, August rolling their hips, arching up against his palm. “There’s… there’s slick in the drawer,” they whisper, whimpering at the brief loss of contact as he rolls to retrieve it.

He spreads their legs with a gentle hand, their answering smirk as they settle amongst a downy pillow making him chuckle, hair a dark halo around them.

 _There you are._ They bite their bottom lips as a slick finger presses circles their entrance, their toes curling against the sheets as that finger slides inside. His name is a whisper as it falls from their lips, sounding better rolling off their tongue than it possibly could off of any other.

August reaches up to grip the posts of the bed, turning their head and muffling a choked-off moan against their shoulder, knuckles bleeding white as he adds another finger.

They arch off the bed, impatiently seeking more, seeking  _friction_  as their cock leaks against their abdomen, and the Hunter can already tell they’re going to be trouble.

“Tell me, how long have you wanted this?”

Their answering breathless laugh is delightful, almost mocking, and their eyes meet his, fixing him with a stern gaze. “Since the very second I laid eyes on you.”

They growl as August surges forward, done with waiting, ready to take what’s now rightfully  _theirs_ as they place their hands upon his shoulders, long legs settling either side of his thighs.

He’s helpless, supplicant to their advances as they reach for his cock, steadying him as they sink down, their other hand squeezing at his shoulder until they’re fully seated.

Scorching, blistering, blindingly  _good_.

August’s mouth falls slack, and the Hunter can do little to resist surging forward to swallow the groan that bubbles forth, hands finding long hair where it falls down their back, silk soft as loose strands snarl about his fingers.

“Are you okay,” he whispers, smiling as August huffs an incredulous, breathless laugh, hips rising and falling once,  _again_ , finding a rhythm.

“How can you ask me that,” they purr, forehead to forehead. “Yes.  _Yes_.”

He meets them halfway, arching up off the mattress, pushing that little bit deeper,  _harder_ , hand travelling upward to cup the curve of their skull, unable to take his eyes off them.

“Why did we wait?” August rasps, smiling against his skin, a kiss pressed to the corner of his mouth. “We could have been doing  _this_  all this time.”

He laughs in earnest, wrapping an arm around their waist, pressing forward and guiding them down against the mattress until he’s moving above them. “Because we’re fools,” he smirks, drawing a gasp from them as he quickens his thrusts.

He thinks he’s in control, but the way August looks up at him tells him otherwise. Every subtle writhe of their hips, the way their fingers reach to curl around their aching cock dictating his every move, and he’s addicted.

“I’m so close,” they say, breathless, fist tight as they stroke themselves in time with his wavering thrusts.

The Hunter feels them clench around him, enthralled with the way their face looks as they come, streaks across their stomach. It’s truly the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, August at their most vulnerable, not caring about what others may think, just…  _free_.

The sight of them coming undone because of  _him_  is all he needs to find his own finish, stars bursting behind his eyelids as he stills, buried deep, filling them up.

He releases a sharp breath he had no idea he was clinging to, falling against August, come sticky between them, but they don’t  _care_.

They’re both flushed, struggling to find a steady breath, thoughts scattered and skittering mindlessly. August reaches up to brush his hair away from his sweat-slick forehead, smiling softly, fingertips trailing over a cheekbone, settling upon his lips.

They kiss until they fall asleep, tongues a lazy tangle, legs a limbless sprawl, breathing finally steady as they hold each other close,  _tight_ , and in the morning August’s heart lurches in their chest when they find he’s reluctant to let go.


	103. Senseless (Finn x Hunter NSFW)

The Hunter is, well…  _hunting_.

She’s stalking her prey from across the dimly lit tavern, finding him tucked away in a corner, a half-empty bottle of whiskey clutched in an iron hand.

It’s hard to forget the way those cold fingers felt when they curved around her throat, the way they played her like a song as she writhed beneath dark sheets.

It’s like a sickness, an addiction, one she’d quite happily succumb to, and she needs her fix.

She clears her throat, cheeks scorching hot as she pushes through the crowd, silently sliding into the booth beside him.

He smiles, dark lashes dropping as he takes a generous swing of the amber liquid, warm and rich like the golden hue of his eyes, and…

God, she really was going crazy.

He hands her the bottle, and she takes it without question, relishing in the burn as it trickles down her throat, the taste of it reminding her of the way  _he_  tastes, his kisses liquid fire.

“I haven’t stopp— _ahh_ …” His words are stolen as she runs an eager hand up along his thigh, fingers tracing the inseam of his trousers, higher,  _higher_.

“You haven’t stopped what?”

He lets out a low, throaty chuckle as she cups her palm over the rapidly hardening bulge between his thighs, his brief surprise replaced by his usual confidence in little more than a heartbeat.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about last night,” he purrs, leaning in, sinking his nose into her hair, breathing her in. “About how you felt.”

She glances up, taking in their surroundings, many an Enforcer not-so subtlety dotted around the tavern this evening.

She strokes a litter harder, touch pandering, an ache tingling between her own thighs as he subtly pushes up against her palm. “Aren’t you concerned they’ll see you with me?”

She turns and catches his gaze, shaking her head. “I don’t really care,” she whispers, eyes travelling to his lips, his  _fangs_ , the indecent spread of his shirt. “You look hot, and I’m trying very hard not to kiss you senseless right now.”

That laugh again, but this time it rolls into a hiss as she pops a button, another, one less layer of fabric parting them as she reaches inside his trousers and finds soft skin.

“Hunter…” he warns, eyes flashing, lips parted. “I can’t promise I’ll be able to control myself if you continue.”

She whimpers as a cold hand finds the hem of her skirt, pushing up, playing her at her own game and doing it  _so much better_.

He presses his lips to her ear. “But that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

She bites her lip, tightening her grip on him,  _writhing_  as she feels a finger toying with the waistband of her underwear, already losing it,  _slick_  for him. “Y-yes.  _Yes_

He pushes a digit inside,  _curls_  it, his thumb finding that aching bundle of nerves and quickly finding a perfect rhythm. “Then you better pray that you can keep quiet.”


	104. Only Heaven (August x Hunter)

 

August is stubborn.

They spend more time hunched over a desk than they do anything else, and the Hunter longs to distract them.

Tonight it’s at their house, in their bedroom.

The Hunter stands behind August’s chair, gathering long, loose curls in his hand, pushing them aside and firmly kissing the back of their neck.

The heat from his mouth lingers, and the Hunter succeeds in his mission as the quill falls from tired fingers. August reaches back, seeking him out, sighing as they lean against him.

The Hunter carefully pushes the silk of August’s robe aside, revealing the soft, smooth space that joins their neck and shoulder. He can see the tension in their muscles, a perpetual knot that begs to be kneaded. But first, a kiss, one that’s followed by the hard press of his thumb, earning yet another content sigh from his beloved.

“You’re too good to me,” August mumbles, tilting their head as the tension melts away under his touch.

They push away from the desk, turning and reaching to wind their arms around his broad shoulders. He reaches for them with a smile, eyes shining as they grip August by the waist. “You deserve every ounce of attention I lavish you with, without question.”

“Well,  _I_  beg to differ,” August retorts, but they’re smiling, uncaring that their attempt at stubbornness has been thwarted by their fondness for him.

“Tough luck,  _General_ ,” he says, leaning close to steal a kiss.

August’s mouth opens at the moment of contact, their lips falling into a weak and familiar rhythm. Slow to start, gentle as they savor the feel of it, the Hunter holding August’s face, thumbs over sharp cheekbones.

The kiss deepens, as they always do, a little urgent, each time that they part to breathe punctuated with a quiet, “I love you.”

It’s the kind of devotion that August never dreamed to possess, a reverence that they only ever read about in far-fetched lovestories, something they had deemed  _untouchable_.

“Are you tired?” The Hunter whispers, staring into ice-blue eyes. He still holds August’s face, swiping his thumb along their kiss-swollen lips, August kissing it as it passes.

“Are you going to take me to bed if I say yes?”

A laugh, a deep rumble that sets August alight. “I suppose I have to, don’t I?”

They settle upon the mattress, sheets pulled over their waists as his lips find their pulse, the quickening rhythm fluttering against his tongue. Try as they might, August can’t stifle the hitch in their breath, and the Hunter smiles against flushed skin.

He bites down gently, and August whispers his name like a curse, forgetting work, and certainly forgetting just how tired they are.


	105. Unreal (Finn x Hunter)

The Hunter murmurs as Finn slides cool fingers under the hem of the too-big shirt he’s stolen from the Vampires wardrobe. It’s a comfort he refuses to relinquish when the sun rises and they part, having his scent close by, covering him. 

Finn has claimed him in many ways already, but the Hunter can’t help but want more. To be bathed in him, to  _drown_. 

He wonders if Finn may be a different creature altogether sometimes, not just one of the night that sucks blood, but one that buries its way into your mind, body,  _soul._ One that refuses to relinquish until you’ve been consumed. 

Willingly, of course. 

It’s the way he feels  _mad_  when they’re together. The way he loses himself in golden eyes and reverent touch, his carefully constructed control withering and dying the second the Vampire dares to look at him, or worse,  _touch_  him. 

“Are you real?” He whispers, words muffled by lips that press hard against his own as they fall back against the mattress, his arms above his head, gathered in one broad, iron hand. 

Finn pulls back slightly, never too far, and he smiles. It’s dangerous, that smile, the smirk, the way his teeth flash bright and sharp in the darkness. His pale skin is bathed in warm candlelight, making him look like marble,  _unreal_  in his beauty. “I don’t know,  _am_  I?”

All hope is lost as Finn lazily parts his thighs with a gentle hand, kissing his throat, chest, stomach. He traces his scars with his tongue and sucks bruises onto the parts unmarred by battle. 

Under him the Hunter moans, his body eagerly bowing up into Finn’s touch. The Vampire watches him intently, every move he makes cataloged and stored for next time, and the next, and the  _next_ until Finn knows him better than he knows himself. 

Every inch of him aches, so painfully in-tune with the body that moves above him,  _inside_  him. He whispers the Hunter’s name low and sweet in his ear, lavishes him with praise, telling him just how  _good_  he is, how  _perfect_  he feels. 

Desire burns in dark eyes, eyes bordered by impossibly long lashes that flutter with each languid thrust, the squeeze of the Hunter’s thighs around his waist urging him on.

The headboard meets the wall in a rhythmic clatter, murmured encouragement and soft groans filling the windowless room as they both hurtle towards a violent finish. 

Finn takes pride in the sight of the Hunter flushed and sated beneath him, sucking pink from his teeth with his tongue as the final drops of warm, copper spill down his throat. 

The Hunter stares up at him in wonder as he comes down from that impossible high, his breath catching, and no demon has ever snatched it from his lungs in battle in the way Finn can with the fluid glide of his hips. 

They reach for one another, fingers pushing into messy hair, the press of Finn’s cold skin chasing away the prickled heat that covers his own. “Do I feel real now?” 

A laugh, a kiss pressed to the corner of his mouth. “Yes, you do.”  


	106. A Little Longer (Finn x Ezra)

Ezra stirs next to him, the warmth radiating off him heavenly as Finn sets his book aside and rolls closer.

It’s almost morning, almost time for them to part, and the thought of slinking back into the shadows alone makes him ache.

He counts the dark freckles that litter his shoulders, traces the curve of his spine with cold fingertips, smiling as the Witch shivers under his touch.

He smiles because he knows he’s awake.

Because he’ll get to see him sleepy and content.

Because he’ll tell him he loves him.

“Finnegan,” he grumbles breathily, toes pointed as he stretches. “What time is it?”

“Almost dawn. I should go.”

Ezra turns, that sad look that Finn dreads shining in emerald eyes, the one that makes him want to forget all of his obligations and responsibilities. “A little longer?”

He sighs, smiling and opening his arms in invitation, weak for him and his  _everything_.

Ezra fits against him so perfectly, all bare,  _warm_  skin and the sweet smell of vanilla shampoo in sleep-mussed curls.

A purpose, a companion, someone that anchors and guides him.

Someone that loves and  _cherishes_.

“A little longer,” he whispers, listening carefully to the steady thrum of his heart as he falls back to sleep in his arms.


	107. Home (Piper x Hunter)

She pushes and pushes and  _pushes_  until she finds that familiar door, grateful for the soft glow of candlelight that pours onto the street from behind gauzy curtains.

One knock, two, the effort of the action agony.

She hears her voice, a distant, “ _Coming_ ,” before the darkness overtakes her and her knees find cold stone with a crack.

When she wakes, there are warm hands upon her face, something wet wiping away caked blood and grime.

There’s also a thoroughly pissed-off Piper staring her down.

She wrings out the cloth with a certain ferocity, and the Hunter has no doubt that she’s imagining its her neck.

“I’m sorry Piper, I didn—“

“Shut up! Stop talking,” Piper snaps, the cloth dropping into red water. “What are you?”

She sighs, unable to hide the smile that plays at the corner of her mouth. “An idiot.”

Sapphire eyes narrow, brow drawn, and Piper nods. “Yes, a  _fucking_  idiot, might I add.”

The Hunter reaches for her, tugging her close whilst doing a good job of hiding the pain that stabs at her side.

Broken ribs, then.

Piper grumbles something profane under her breath, but she goes willingly, settling against her. Calloused fingers brush her hair away from a face mottled with purple and pink, bruises blooming in kind.

“You’ll always find your way to me, though, won’t you? You stubborn fool.”

She huffs a laugh, melting into Piper’s warm embrace, grateful for the kiss pressed to her temple. “I’ll always come home to you, Piper.”


	108. Real People (Omen x Hunter)

“Quickly!”

She laughs as he pulls her along, the warmth of his fingers laced with her own the most wonderful feeling.

He stops at the edge of the shoreline, sand soft underfoot, the waves lazy as they lap against the beach.

Everything about Omen is wondrous. He breathes life into the dullest of things, sees beauty in things others may take for granted.

“There are no beaches where I’m from. No sand, so sea. I think this is my favourite thing about this place,” he says quietly, head tilted skyward, the stars a canopy above them.

The Hunter reluctantly lets go of his hand and reaches down to slide off her boots, socks. She begins on the laces of his shoes when she’s down with her own, Omen laughing, resting his hand on her shoulder for balance as she tosses them aside.

“There, much better,” she says, wiggling her toes, feeling soft sand against her skin.

“It feels… nice,” he grins, bright and beautiful.

A moment of silence, and the Hunter misses his warmth, his touch. Her fingers twitch,  _aching_  for it, and as if he’s read her mind he reaches for her.

This time there’s more, though.

A hand at her waist to pull her close, the other reaching to brush her hair back from her face.

“You’re so warm,” he whispers, his thumb curiously tracing the flush that creeps under cool skin. “Right…  _here_.”

She reaches for his hand, curling her fingers around his wrist, a kiss pressed to a pulse that thrums inifinitely faster than her own. “Omen, will you kiss me?”

Those huge chestnut eyes burn into her own, shining brightly in the darkness, and she finds herself wondering what colour they really are.

The thought is lost when his lips find hers, soft and pliant, and he’s tentative until he’s not.

Omen kisses her until she can’t breathe, both of them gasping to fill their lungs when they break apart.

He looks good with kiss-reddened lips, he looks  _human_.


	109. 688 (Finn)

He watches Ezra’s nose crinkle, emerald eyes squeezed shutas the whiskey burns a throat more accustomed to red wine. The noise he makes when he finally breathes again is nothing short of charming, just like everything else he does. 

“Blegh! I…  _wow_. That’s disgusting, isn’t it?” 

Finn snorts an incredulous laugh, swiping the rapidly emptying bottle from the Witches ungrateful hands. “It’s not disgusting, it’s  _vintage_.”

“As vintage as  _you_?” Alkar scoffs, eyeing Finn’s glass as he tops it up, wiggling his scarred fingers impatiently.

Finn doesn’t miss the look that Ezra throws Alkar, the Lycan feigning disinterest, but noticeably wilting in his seat. He hands the bottle to him and lifts his glass to his nose, breathing in the scent of spice, of  _heaven_ before taking a more than generous sip.

It’s been one of his many vices since he was reborn, something to chase the taste of a lost love, a thing so simple and yet so very comforting.

He drapes an arm around Ezra’s shoulders, savoring the way the liquid coats his tongue, making it tingle in a way even the richest blood never could. He grins brilliantly as Ezra raises his glass, watching as his friends eagerly join him.

Omen scrambles to copy them, his already pink cheeks darkening beautifully as Alkar nudges him in the ribs, a sly, mischievous look in his scarlet eyes. “Keep up, hot stuff.”

“To Finnegan. Happy six hundred and…  _something_  years! Thank you for being such a bright light in our lives. We love you very much,” Ezra says proudly, bumping his forehead against Finn’s shoulder with a smile as they clink their glasses together in celebration.

Finn sighs, holding Ezra a little tighter, staring at Omen and Alkar with an unabashed fondness. “I might have been wandering this miserable planet for nearly seven hundred years, but you lot make it infinitely more tolerable. I love you too.” 


	110. Something Tragic (August x Hunter)

August catches the Hunter’s gaze, and there’s something  _magnetic_  about them. Something that has August’s heart lurching helplessly in their chest every  _damn_  time.

They’re past the point of being embarrassed about offering them a wry smile in return, of letting their lashes dip low, drawing attention to the pink that floods their cheeks.

The way they look at them makes August feel beautiful,  _brave_ , and maybe even a little crazy.

They’ve kissed once, twice, and August intends to make it to a third as quickly as possible.

August lifts one dark brow when the Hunter finally crosses the room, and with an elegant wave of their hand the door closes with a click.

The Hunter huffs a quiet laugh, standing close, close,  _close_. “Show off.”

They catch August’s chin between forefinger and thumb, tilting their face, making sure they can see the way their eyes take over them like a caress.

It’s burning, powerful, an intense ferocity that sets August’s skin alight like they’re in the presence of the sun itself. Too close, too  _hot_.

August bites their lip, knowing what it does to them, unable to stifle a smile as a low growl rumbles in the Hunter’s throat. “Did you want something?”

The Hunter narrows their eyes, rests their other hand upon August’s waist, thumb stroking circles against the thin fabric of their shirt. “There’s something tragic about you, August.”

“ _Is_  there now?” They snarl, breath hitching as they’re yanked close,  _tight_  against the scorching heat of the Hunter’s body.

“Let’s wash that away,” they purr, leaning in, fingers pushing into mauve curls, gentle as their lips finally,  _finally_  meet.

Everything in August’s life is by the book.

Neat, methodical, organised.

But, as tongue finds tongue, the kiss wet and sloppy and  _eager,_ August finds themselves not caring about the messy flurry of paperwork that flutters to the ground as they brush their desk clear.

They can find much better uses for it than writing reports, it would appear.


	111. No Fuss (Piper x Hunter)

They watch her from the bed, but she doesn’t know they’re awake… they  _think_.

There’s a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her bare legs drawn to her chest where she sits at her small writing desk.

Dull firelight plays on her warm skin, a scar that crosses at her spine, another over her shoulder, more that they can’t see but have long committed to memory.

It’s still late, they assume, the sky dark when they look outside, and Piper has dared to sneak away from the warmth of their arms.

To  _work_ , of all the things.

She pretends to not care, to not want to do her reports, to just be another thing that stresses August, but they know that she cares  _too much_.

More than anyone.

They see the pity in her eyes when she tells a family they’ve lost their son, the agony when she has to kill a new creature that’s lost it’s way through no fault of its own.

Piper cares, but Piper hides.

A wall built up over time for no reason other than defiance. She’s strong, stubborn to a fault, and the Hunter loves her more than life itself.

“I know you’re watching me,” she sighs, stretching her arms above her head to work out some lingering ache that she always seems to have. “Your breathing is quicker when you sleep.”

They huff a laugh, charmed that she notices such things. They sit against the headboard and smile when she turns to observe the way the sheets pool at their waist with a quirked brow.

“Why aren’t you in bed, Piper? You’re working yourself to exhaustion.”

Another sigh, heavier this time, and she stands with great effort, falling to the mattress. She lets them wrap her up, covering bare skin with those sleep-warm sheets, rubbing the chill from her arms.

She frowns, swatting them away. “Don’t fuss over me,” she grumbles, but she nuzzles closer, wrapping legs and arms around them. “I’m fine.”

“You’re  _freezing_ ,” they protest, pressing a kiss to her hair.

They see her smirk, the faintest hint of colour still on her lips where they’d failed to kiss it all off. She tips her head, her sapphire gaze dark, curious. “Then warm me up.”


	112. My Life (Finn x Hunter)

His mouth is open, eyes closed, the sheets warm beneath where he lays, but Finn is  _cold_ where he settles behind him.

Finn loves the way pink sweeps across his cheeks, loves  _all_  of the human things about him that he doesn’t even realize are wondrous.

He counts his ribs with iron fingertips, feels his pulse with his lips and tastes his sweat with his tongue. His eyes flutter open, half-lidded with desire, a smile on lips that whisper Finn’s name.

Fingers twine and legs tangle, and Finn finds himself questioning everything.

Every right, every wrong, every time he swore he’d never take another life.

The Hunter tests him, pushes every limit just by daring to live, to  _breathe,_ and when he says, “Let me give you my life,” Finn almost takes it.

He holds his face in his hands, and he knows that if he could breathe there would be a stutter in his chest. “Don’t say that,” he begs,  _pleads_ , sealing the question with a kiss.

Finn can’t imagine a life without him, but he also can’t fathom a life without the sound of his heart, the thrum of his pulse, the colour under his skin.

“I’d let you, you know,” the Hunter says, words whispered against pale skin.

Finn holds him tighter, ghosts his fangs over the curve of his throat. But, instead of sinking them deep into the marks that already mar his skin, he kisses them.

“I know.”


	113. Storm (August x Hunter)

A storm has broken out above Lunaris, and the Hunter has taken shelter inside August’s house, in front of their roaring fire.

August sits quietly on the sofa, legs curled beneath them, a book in one hand and a strand of silver hair being twirled around a finger of the other.

It’s…  _peaceful_ , minus the thunder, the windows shaking with every disruptive rumble.

He’s silent beside August, a blanket draped over his legs, and he idly swirls his wine around his glass, enjoying the simple company, but finding himself unable to shift his gaze from his Enforcer.

_What is it about them that enthrals me so?_

August certainly isn’t like anyone he’d ever known, stubborn and brash, but tender in a wholly unexpected way, a way that catches you off-guard.

The Hunter is baffled by his developing feelings, by the lingering brush of their fingers each time they exchanged reports, by the way he’d catch August looking at him from beneath dark lashes as they wander the streets.

In a way that made him shudder, sparks skittering across his skin as if those sky-blue eyes were electric.

He wets his lips, studying August’s features, because,  _shit_ , it wasn’t often that he’d ever had the chance to do this, to  _really_  look at them without drawing their scowling attention.

Their nose was imperfect, a slight bump in its ridge, but it’s striking,  _gorgeous_. Their jaw is sharp, cheekbones sharper, and their skin is so pale that it almost glows in the dull candlelight.

_Life is short, so, painfully short._

He sets his glass aside and reaches for August’s book, careful not to lose their place as he puts it on the small side table.

August opens their mouth to protest, but he presses a finger to their lips, shaking his head. “I have to know,” he whispers, leaning in, and…

_And._

It was inevitable. The glances, the touches, the deep,  _aching_  longing that had manifested, vines curling around his heart and  _squeezing_.

They’d been hurtling towards this moment since the day they met.

The first press of soft lips against his own, the first tentative swipe of his tongue. August’s indrawn breath, and the quiet noise of surprise they make, god, the  _taste_  of them as they open up to him, sweet and tart and…

_August, August, August._

It feels right,  _good_ , and it was an utter travesty that they’d wasted all of these weeks not doing  _this_ , foolishly denying themselves the simple rightness of it.

He reaches up to cup a hand to August’s jaw, tracing the curve of their cheek with his thumb as he pulls away.

Their lashes flutter open slowly, eyes unfocused, lips kiss-reddened and parted on a breath. They reach up to curl long fingers around his wrist, quietly clearing their throat, but their voice is still hoarse as they whisper, “Hunter…”

He’s still close enough that their noses are brushing, that the temptation of August’s mouth is  _right there_. “God, August. You’re so beautiful,” he says, too lost, too caught up to think of anything else, of anything more coherent.

August exhales sharply, and pleasure distills down into one single moment as they surge forward to catch his lips in another kiss.

He drowns in it, in  _August_ , practically vibrating as one kiss melts into another, then another, and another, and…


	114. Flush (Finn x Hunter)

The Hunter sits at Finn’s desk, knees drawn up to his chest, an oversized shirt that belongs to his lover hanging off a bare shoulder.

He carefully flicks through the well-loved sketchbook, sighing contentedly as he finds yet another sketch of himself, and he’s smiling, looking happier on this page than he ever thought possible.

_This is how he sees me?_

The bathroom door creaks as it opens, and Finn emerges with a towel around his waist, hanging low to tease the sinful, arching wings of his hips, droplets of water clinging to pale skin, following the curve of him.

He’s a work of art himself, sculpted to absolute perfection, and he catches the Hunter staring with his mouth agape like some lackwit who  _wasn’t_ pressed beneath him upon dark sheets little more than an hour ago.

He clears his throat, blinking away his Finn-induced daze as the Vampire approaches, running a towel through damp, raven hair.

Finn crouches in front of him, spinning the chair and holding it steady so the Hunter has no place to hide as he fixes him with that striking golden gaze.

“I think it’s adorable how easily you blush,” he smirks, a single fang grazing his bottom lip as he bites it, appraising the Hunter with something that can only be described as  _hunger_.

The Hunter huffs a sharp laugh, lashes dipping as he feels his traitorous cheeks darken further, sparks skittering across his skin as Finn curls a finger beneath his chin, tilting his head so he can catch his gaze once more.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, staring only at his face, his touch cool and welcome against heated skin. “How I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

The Hunter swallows thickly, blindly reaching for the sketchbook, dropping his legs and placing it in his lap. “This. This is how you see me?”

Finn stands, taking the book and throwing it to the desk, twining their fingers together and tugging at him to stand, catching him against his chest. “Yes, my love. Exactly as you are.”

The kiss that follows makes him believe every word.


	115. Boots (August x Hunter NSFW)

August would have to pretend they weren’t pacing by their door, waiting for the loud knock that was unmistakably his. They reached for the handle, pausing, counting one, two, three…

There he stands, cheeks flushed and breath coming in quick, sharp puffs as if he’d run all the way here from his dingy room in the White Wolf. He smiles, and August swallows thickly, having pined for him every second he’d been away, and here he was in all his infuriatingly handsome glory.

August holds out a hand, and the second they connect all of their patience crumbles to nothing but a memory, the Hunter quickly closing the gap between them. August sails into his arms, everything inside them lighting up as they crash together, an unprecedented,  _joyful_  laugh bubbling forth from their lips as he buries his face against their neck.

“Shit, I missed you,” he mumbles, inhaling the lavender-sweet scent of them, tilting his chin to catch August’s mouth in a desperate kiss, one that steals their breath as they melt against his broad chest.

They hadn’t quite realised it, but in his absence their world was off-kilter, not quite  _right_ , but everything had snapped back into its rightful place the very moment their lips met.

The door slams shut as he presses August back against it, a big hand cupping the back of their skull, lest they get a concussion. August knows this dance, they’ve practised it before, and the Hunter catches them about the hips, hoisting them up as long legs wrap around his waist.

August pulls away, looking down into wide eyes, their arms slung over his shoulders. “Can I at least take my boots off before you pounce on me, Hunter?”

The Hunter huffs a laugh, shaking his head and surging forward to press a kiss to the wonderfully exposed hollow of their throat. “You know I prefer it when you leave them on,  _General_.”

August’s quiet laugh melts into a helpless groan as the Hunter presses them back against the wood, the door loudly quaking in its frame as their hips meet. They’re both painfully hard already, and August claws at his shoulders for leverage as he ruts against them, littering their jaw with quick kisses.

August arches against him, the friction maddening, and how  _dare_  there be that barrier, their clothes an unnecessary obstacle between them, but they’re too far-gone to do something about them.

The noise the Hunter makes when they repeat the arching action is something utterly indecent, caught somewhere between a groan and a growl, August’s toes curling in their boots at the sound of it.

Broad hands find the curve of their ass, driving them back, the situation a little wild, a little unhinged, but August would be lying if they said it wasn’t a dream, a desire. They rarely let go like this, but the Hunter has shown them what they’re capable of, what they truly desire deep,  _deep_  down.

He seeks out August’s lips once again, tongue stroking deep as he digs his fingers into firm thighs, the aching grind of their hips driving them both closer to the edge than should really be normal.

“August,” he breathes, voice a useless, wrecked thing, their name sounding a lot like a prayer as he looks up and catches their bright blue eyes, looking at them with an unrestrained hunger.

He reaches between them, finally furious enough with the trousers that separate them to tear at their buttons, reaching inside and curling deft fingers around their length, spreading the slick that’s gathered at the crown, feeling velvet in his palm.

August all but loses their mind against him, whimpering, their back curving into a perfect bow as he strokes them, their cheeks surely an embarrassing shade of crimson if the way they burn was anything to go by.

“Yes,” he whispers, gazing up at them like they’re this wondrous thing, something cherished as they tense against him. “Come for me, August.”

August can do little to disobey his request, not with the way his hand moves in a slick,  _perfect_ glide, the Hunter still grinding shamelessly against them as August comes hard, loud, messy over his curled fist.

“Fuck,” August whines, pressing their forehead to his as they blink away the stars that flutter behind their eyelids, long fingers pushing into his hair,  _pulling_.

The Hunter hitches them higher, and there’s another another loud bang as the door rattles with the force of it, his body wound  _tight_ , brow furrowed as he let’s go and finally finds his own bliss.

The only sound as August drops to unsteady feet is the heavy breath that passes between them, bodies still seamed tight, and they stare at one another with a naked sort of wonder as they come down from that unbeatable high.

“Welcome back,” August mutters, laughing breathlessly as he presses a kiss to the corner of their mouth, his arms winding around their waist,  _squeezing_  tight as if he means to never let them go.


	116. Back To Bed (Ezra x Hunter NSFW)

He finds Ezra in the kitchen, standing at the stove with his kettle in-hand.

His hair is a mess, and he’s humming to himself as he lights the burner, the Hunter slowly moving to join him, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “Good morning.” 

He slips his hands inside Ezra’s robe, skin warm against his fingertips, his mouth finding the juncture of his shoulder, and Ezra grips the edge of the counter. 

“I was going to bring you tea, you impatient man.” 

The Hunter shrugs, feeling emboldened, hands tracing the v of his hips, down,  _down_  until he finds that trail of hair. “Oh, you  _were_?” 

Ezra giggles, the noise filtering into a broken whimper as deft fingers find his cock, his touch teasing. He splays his other hand against Ezra’s stomach, pulling him back, the thin fabric that separates them an absolute travesty. 

Long lashes flutter closed, kissing the tops of russet cheeks, cheeks that darken as the Hunter begins to stroke him, slowly,  _gentle_. Ezra’s smile doesn’t falter, and he looks over his shoulder at him, catching his gaze with burning,  _bright_  emerald. 

The Hunter finds himself faltering, the steady glide of his hand turning into a stutter at the sight of those lips curling up at the corners, and his resolve slips.  “Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy,” he groans, moving his hips, grinding his own hardness against the curve of Ezra’s ass.

Ezra tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, looking positively sinful as he presses back, and the Hunter knows he can feel him trapped and  _hard_  inside his trousers.

The kettle begins to whistle loudly, Ezra silencing it with a quick wave of his hand, the flames snuffed out. “Maybe,” he whispers, pausing to bite back yet another whimper. “We should go back to bed.” 

The Hunter nods enthusiastically, reluctantly removing his hand from between Ezra’s thighs. “It  _is_  very early,” he grins, and he lets Ezra lead him back up the stairs with haste. 


	117. Cute (Alkar x Hunter)

Alkar waits outside the tavern for her, a strange…  _something_  fluttering incessantly in his stomach.

He leans back against cold stone, ears twitching as he hears footsteps, and then she appears.

She looks different, softer. She wears no armour, and her hair is down, framing her pretty face.

The smile that crosses her lips as she spots him is baffling, that  _he_  could make this human beam like that is baffling. Just… this whole situation, you guessed it,  _baffling_.

She stands before him, cheeks kissed pink from the cold, or maybe she’s blushing, he can’t quite tell. “Hey,” she says, still smiling, still  _enchanting_.

He clears his throat, taking the sight of her in as quickly as he can, trying not to let his gaze linger for too long, lest he ruin this. “Uh… youlookreallycuteinthat.”

She snorts a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners, and she threads her arm through his, holding on tight. “Thank you, Alkar. Come on, let’s get a drink.”


	118. Say My Name (Finn x Ezra NSFW)

“Please, I need… I  _can’t_ …” Ezra gasps, his face turned and buried in his pillow, fingers clinging to it like it’s a lifeline.

His face is flushed a dark red, his curls sticking to the sweat that beads at his brow, and he writhes against the mattress as Finn smirks up at him from between spread legs.

“Patience, angel,” Finn purrs, pulling another desperate moan from him as he flattens his tongue and licks a wet stripe from base to tip.

His body shakes, trembles, and Finn is truly a monster for the way he’s pushing him to the brink then leaving him hanging. A devious game of push, push,  _pull_.

Finn’s fingers dig into the muscle of his thighs, bruising as Ezra plants his feet against broad shoulders, back arching off the bed as Finn travels lower. “Finn… please. Please, please,  _please_.”

Finn ignores his begging, pressing a firm hand over his hip to pin him in place. Ezra pushes a hand into his hair, gasping as Finn takes him down to the root, curling the digit that’s pressed inside him.

Finn can’t stick to his own game for much longer, his own cock thick and  _aching_  where it’s trapped against the mattress.

“I need… I need you inside me.  _Now_ ,” Ezra growls, pushing himself up onto his elbows and pushing Finn away in an act of defiance.

Finn grins, surging forward to catch his lips in a salt-sweet kiss, wrapping an arm around his waist and hauling him into his lap. “Then take what you need,” he whispers, the deep rumble of his voice making Ezra shudder.

Ezra eagerly sinks down onto his cock, his head falling back when he’s fully seated, filled up, his legs trembling with the effort as he rises up, guided by a pair of cold hands upon his hips.

Ezra rocks against him, fingers digging into his shoulders. “Finnegan,” he breathes, a delicious whisper. “Finnegan, Finnegan,  _Finnegan._.”

Finn presses a kiss to the centre of his chest, fingertips fluttering over his spine. “I like it when you say my name like that, like it’s the only word you know,” he groans, looking up at Ezra through impossibly long lashes, in awe of his beauty.

He feels Ezra tighten around him, come hot against his stomach as he finds his release, muffling his cries against Finn’s mouth.

There’s nothing more satisfying to Finn than watching a lover lose control by his hand, to watch them stutter and shake, and the sight of it helps him find his own finish, burying deep as he fills him up.

He holds Ezra close, tastes the sweat on his skin, and Finn is  _satisfied_.


	119. Lateness (Finnzra x Hunter)

The Hunter lazily descends the staircase, their armour and a pile of reports in-hand as they prepare to leave and head to meet August at HQ.

They’d woken up early after a heavenly night of sleep pressed between two very attractive men, and for once they  _might_  even have time to have a pot of tea with Ezra before they depart.

Well, that  _would_  have been the case if Finn didn’t have Ezra bent over the counter, doing a throughly good job of distracting him from making said tea.

The Hunter knows Finn has heard him, but the Vampire is a little occupied with the fact that he currently has his teeth in Ezra’s neck, lazily thrusting into him as he has breakfast of his own.

The Hunter swallows thickly at the sight of it, piecing the scenario together as if it were a crime scene.

Ezra’s robe is pushed up around his waist, Finn’s loose trousers pushed down with haste, his chest still bare as it had been when they slept.

Ezra chokes on a whimper, reaching back to card his fingers through raven hair, pulling Finn closer, and the Hunter has no doubt that there’s a messy chorus of  _harder, harder, harder_ fluttering around in his brain.

Finn pulls away from his throat, lips stained crimson as he turns his head and flashes the Hunter a toothy grin, one that makes the ache between their legs a little more evident.

“Hunter,” he purrs, curling iron fingers around Ezra’s neck and spinning him, their connection unbroken as they both face them. “A little help?”

They drop their armour, their reports, and they quickly fall to their knees in front of Ezra, reaching out to fist his cock through the parting in his robe.

They take him in their mouth, and he’s so  _warm_ , slick already, painfully hard, and they know it’ll take little for him to come undone. Ezra pushes his fingers into their hair, emerald eyes blown-black, unfocused as he looks down to meet their gaze. “Yes…”

Finn kisses his neck, eyes glowing in the dull morning light, tongue reverently lapping up the last few drops of precious blood. “Mmh,  _Ezra_ , you taste so good. I…  _fuck_.”

The Hunter catches sight of Finn, the beautiful way in which his face twists as he comes, as he pulls away and strokes himself to completion.

Ezra groans, chin falling to his chest as he tenses and spills thick and  _hot_ onto the Hunter’s tongue, gasping for breath as the Hunter greedily swallows every drop, releasing him with a sinful ‘pop’.

They stare in silence, and Ezra places his hand over the wound upon his neck, a dull blue-green glow emanating from his palm as he heals himself, but the Hunter knows that’s one scar he never fully erases.

They shift to stand, wiping their mouth with the back of their hand, and Finn quirks a scarred brow at them, offering them his hand.

He carefully guides them towards the small sofa that sits in the corner, pressing a firm palm over their crotch, grinning as he feels the heat, as they hiss through clenched teeth.

Ezra takes a seat beside them, resting his head against the back of the sofa, his cheeks still flushed a charming shade of pink, lips bitten red. “Good morning,” he smiles, lazy,  _gorgeous_.

The Hunter whimpers as Finn unbuttons their trousers, as a cold hand reaches inside. “I’m going to be late, unhhh… b-because you couldn’t keep it in your pants.”

Ezra chuckles, leaning in, a firm hand against their chest. “Him, not me,” he whispers, glancing at Finn before he’s catching their lips in a heated kiss.

_August is going to be so pissed._


	120. Safe (Ezra x Hunter)

Ezra paces outside the shop, the sun setting slowly but surely over the tops of crooked houses.

The magelight lantern burns brightly next to the door, but he knows he must get inside soon, no matter how much the worry that coils in his gut threatens to break him.

He waits, and  _waits_ , and eventually he turns on his heel to head into the warmth of…

Footsteps.

Fast and loud, gravel crunching under boot, and then he’s being embraced,  _relieved_  as warm, familiar arms wind around his waist.

“I’m so sorry,” the Hunter mumbles, his face buried in the crook of Ezra’s neck, breathing him in before he’s pulling back to hold that pretty face between his hands.

Ezra curls long fingers around his wrists, tears threatening to spill as they gather in his eyes, and he smiles. “I was worried sick,” he breathes, words shaking. “Are you injured?”

The Hunter shakes his head, returning his brilliant smile. “Just a few bumps and bruises, nothing a certain Witch would need to exert themselves over.”

Ezra huffs a laugh at the accusatory eyebrow he quirks and takes his hand, leading him inside and deadlocking the door. He leans back against the wood and pulls the Hunter close, looking up into tired eyes. “I… I’m…”

The Hunter tilts his head, brow furrowed as he reaches out to catch a falling tear with his thumb. “Ezra?”

Ezra swallows away the lump in his throat, and he realises something that tips his whole world on its axis.

_I love him._

He shakes his head, clearing his throat. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

_I wouldn’t know what to do if I lost you._


	121. Spiteful (Finn x Ezra)

There’s a heavy, insistent knock at his door, one that repeats when he ignores it the first time, the second, the third. 

Ezra doesn’t shout, but his thoughts are like a hurricane. Loud, fast, destructive. 

_Don’t make me do it. Don’t…_

Finn closes his eyes, takes a deep breath just for the sake of it, and he pulls himself from the comfort of his bed.

As he tugs at the heavy wood, he finds angry emerald glaring up at him, a warm, familiar body pushing past as Ezra storms into his quarters. 

He’s never seen him like this, the Witch usually rational, calm, always the one to quell  _his_  rage when little else can. But now he is  _furious_. 

He stands in the windowless room, stares at the desk upon which Finn has written many a letter, drawn many faces, and he finds a box.

A box of things that may seem insignificant to those who don’t know it’s purpose. 

An old discolored necklace, a scrap of green fabric, a lock of blonde hair. 

Ezra reaches out and plucks an item that’s been newly added, and he knows this because Finn has spent many nights telling him stories about each of these items, and also because the item in question belongs to  _him_. 

He spins on his heel, tears hot on his cheeks, a gold earring with an emerald stone clutched tightly in his palm. “So, I finally get to join your box of dead things?” 

Finn falters, mouth open, but he’s unable to form a single word. His throat feels tight, and he balls his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching out. 

It’s over, this thing between them, Finn had told him as much last night. A lie he’d hoped would stick, one that Ezra would be too proud to question. 

_I don’t love you anymore._

He’d spoken those words twice before, but this time the person he was lying to remained,  _lives_ here, a constant and inescapable reminder that Finn is weak.

That he continues to love things that will eventually leave him, that are capable of being hurt, that will wither and die.

Ezra steps forward, painfully beautiful in his fury. “Tell me why. Don’t lie to me again, Finnegan. I deserve  _better,_ ” he growls. “I gave you five years, now you give me the truth.” 

Even though it kills him to touch warm skin, to pull him close in a fierce embrace, Finn cannot stand to see him tremble, to stand alone. Ezra is tense against him, but as Finn reaches up with the hand he crafted and threads iron fingers into soft curls, Ezra relaxes, his fists pressed against his chest as if he’s anticipating shoving him away any second.

“I… I  _know_  you deserve better. I’m not… I’ve  _never_  been good enough for you, Ezra.” 

Ezra does push him away then, fierce,  _strong,_ and he shoves the earring into Finn’s palm. “And you decided this when? After making me fall in love with you? After…  _everything_?” 

Finn stands silent, because nothing he can ever say will make him seem like less of a coward, and he continues to be unworthy of Ezra’s love. 

Ezra huffs a bitter laugh, heading for the door, whispering a quiet, tearful, “Goodbye, Finnegan,” before he slams it shut. 

Finn opens his palm, the magic that flows through the iron flickering and fading as he finds gold and emerald and places it in the box, closing the lid. 


	122. Quietly, Now (August x Hunter NSFW)

The gentle creak of weathered wood as the Hunter thrusts into them echoes off of old brick, and August’s head snaps up as the Hunter whimpers, the blue of their eyes barely visible around blown-black. “Try to stay quiet, do you understand?” 

He nods, a sly smile forming on his lips, fingers digging into August’s firm thighs for leverage as he rolls his hips a little harder, trying to make them break their own rules. 

August bites their lip  _hard,_ chin falling to rest upon their chest as they expertly stifle a groan, the control they have utterly infuriating. 

Though, the Hunter can see little flaws in their resolve, their knuckles bleeding white where they grip the edge of their desk, the way the flush upon their cheeks and chest darkens. 

He will break them, no matter how they cling to their composure. 

“August, will you look at me?” 

They shake their head, lips falling open on a sharp breath as he moves a hand to curl around the hardness between their thighs, stroking languidly, a slick, perfect glide. “N-no, I will  _not_ ,” they growl, hissing through clenched teeth. 

They hook their ankles together behind his back, the leather of their boots creaking as they urge him closer, lashes fluttering closed as he sinks deeper, harder,  _faster_. 

His pace is relentless now, the desk protesting loudly beneath them, and if August should be worried about any noise startling their colleagues, it should be  _that_.

He reaches up with his other to grip their chin, tipping their head so he can catch that steeled gaze. Their eyes remain closed, brow furrowed, and he brushes their hair aside to whisper in their ear. “Everyone already knows you’re mine, so let them  _hear_.”

August turns to catch his lips in a crushing,  _angry_  kiss, the Hunter greedily swallowing the growl that rumbles forth, smiling as August begins to shudder under his touch, spilling hot, hot,  _hot_ over his fingers.

They gasp as their lips part, eyes opening, staring him down with a grin, one that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “I will  _not_ , Hunter. Don’t make me say it again.” 

He groans as August rakes blunt nails over his partially exposed chest, leaving angry red lines in their wake, leaning in  _close_ , lips but a breath apart. “Now, are you going to fuck me, or is this it?” 

He can’t help the laugh that spills from his lips, the audacity of them, the utter…  _perfection_. He lets out a ragged groan as he quickens his pace, catching sight of the teasing quirk of their brow, but not missing the way their breath quickens, the way that they groan as he fills them up, coming  _loudly_. 

August wraps their hands around his neck, long fingers cupping the curve of his skull, reeling him in and catching his lips in a kiss once again, tongues a slick, desperate tangle as the Hunter finds a steady breath. 

They tug his bottom lip between their teeth, biting until he tastes copper. “You better clean that up,” they grin. 


	123. Like What You See? (Finn x Hunter NSFW)

Fingers find the hem of Finn’s shirt, pushing it up, liquid warmth radiating from his touch. It’s scorching,  _blinding_ against his cold skin, and as the fabric is discarded the Hunter sits back and takes in the view, eyes roaming the newly-bared plane of his chest. 

Finn grips his hips, arching up where the Hunter straddles his waist, seeking friction while he’s under such scrutiny. “Like what you see?”

The Hunter rolls his eyes, but his smile betrays him, fingers tracing the crescent moon upon his breast, through the coarse hair in-between, down the line of his abs, lingering at the edge of his trousers. “You could do with learning a little humility, Finnegan.”  

He’s popping the buttons, pulling the fabric apart, Finn’s cock heavy in his hand as he reaches inside. He runs his thumb over the crown of it, smearing the wetness that pools there and stroking down, starting with slow,  _agonizing_  strokes. Finn eagerly sinks into his touch, lips parted, golden eyes fluttering and half-lidded, and the Hunter is still transfixed by it, by the fact that  _he’s_  doing  _that_ to  _him_. 

This centuries-old,  _dangerous_  creature that could kill him in a split-second. 

Finn pushes himself up off the mattress, big hands cradling the curve of his ass, yanking him _close_  as he drags sharp teeth along the line of his jaw, lips moving up until he’s tugging his earlobe into his mouth.  

The Hunter threads a hand through raven hair, tracing the shell of a pointed ear, his back arching as a cold,  _slick_  finger finds his entrance, presses inside. Finn watches his face intently as it twists with pleasure, the furrowed brow, the bitten lip, the dusky colour that sweeps across his cheeks. “Beautiful,” Finn whispers, awestruck. 

The Vampire pries him from his lap, and the Hunter dutifully goes to his knees, arching his back as Finn places an iron palm flat against the base of his spine. He looks over his shoulder and finds that burning golden gaze, and he pleads wordlessly. 

_Take me, I’m yours._

That hand slides over the curve of him, waist, hip, ass, and Finn leans forward to press a trail of kisses from between his shoulder blades, over each knob of his spine, gooseflesh prickling in his wake. It’s reverent, teasing, and every second he’s  _not_  inside him drives the Hunter crazy. 

Finn does it on purpose when he’s in one of these moods, drags it out until the Hunter is trembling, _begging,_ and tonight is no different. He takes his cock in his hand, pressing it against his entrance, pushing gently but not quite enough to offer any relief.  

_Fuck me already, please… please…_

Finn chuckles at the errant thought that filters through, his voice hoarse,  _delicious_. “So impatient.”

He impales him to the hilt with little warning, drawing a broken groan from the Hunter as their hips meet in a violent push, his toes curling against soft sheets. Finn stills, his breath cool upon the Hunters throat, skin even cooler pressed tight against his back, hands roaming over rib and chest. 

“Tell me how you want it,” he purrs, lips a ghost against his shoulder. 

The Hunter opens his mouth to respond, his words dying on the tip of his tongue as Finn  _slowly_ pulls out, quickly thrusting back in with another raspy chuckle. 

He can’t help the way Finn’s name falls from his lips, like a desperate prayer over and  _over_  as the Vampire chooses his own pace, his question forgotten as they both lose themselves in the sensation.

Finn presses a hand between sweat-slick shoulder blades, pushing so he’s pressed flush against crumpled sheets, being fucked into the mattress until he’s breathless,  _gasping_  for a steady breath. He fills him completely, fingers digging into hips, and the Hunter knows there’ll be bruises, that’s he’s going to be marked, and that only makes him groan louder. 

His hips move in a staccato rhythm, in a way that makes him tremble, falling apart beneath him with no hope of lasting, not when he’s like _this_. 

Finn’s lips find his ear again as he leans in, his perfect pace unfaltering. “Touch yourself for me,” he whispers, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw. “And look at me while you do it. I want to see your face when you come.” 

The Hunter obliges, doing as he’s told with no hesitation. He bites back a ragged moan as he curls a fist around his cock, the sheets soaked beneath him already, his desire unbidden, unrestrained.  

Finn kisses the juncture of his shoulder, their gazes locked, and suddenly all the Hunter can think about his being bitten, of those fangs sinking deep into his flesh as he comes, of…  _fuck_.  

“Just tell me when,” Finn smirks, hearing every filthy, skittering thought. 

He bites his lip, a cacophony of  _now, now, now_  racing in his mind, and Finn grants him his wish, biting down, the pleasure of his orgasm far outweighing the pain of the bite. Finn doesn’t drink, just laps up the crimson that rushes from the shallow wound, that coats his skin, the swipe of his tongue tender in contrast with the harshness of his thrusts. 

Finn mumbles something incoherent against his skin as he comes, driving deep and filling him up, holding him tightly as his thrusts begin to waver. He pulls away, wetness spilling across the Hunters thighs, and Finn falls beside him, still infuriatingly  _gorgeous_ , not a dot of colour visible upon his cheeks, nor a drop of sweat on his brow. 

Heat skitters across the Hunter’s skin, a scorching burn, an incessant but welcome sting upon his shoulder, and a numbness in his limbs. “I’ll be feeling that for days,” he grins, thoroughly satisfied with the dull, persistent ache Finn has left behind.

“You feel so good,” Finn tells him softly, edging closer, reaching up to brush damp hair that clings to his cheeks aside, looking at him like he’s infinitely precious. “Too good. Warm,  _tight_.” 

The Hunter laughs as Finn pushes him onto his back, burying his face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of him, of sweat and  _sex_. 

He pushes his fingers into raven hair, scratching his scalp, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, and he lets Finn take care of him. 


	124. Fool (Piper x Hunter)

She hisses through clenched teeth as Piper puts pressure on the wound, catching her guilty sapphire gaze.

“Serves you right,” Piper growls, still jagged around the edges,  _pissed off_.

The Hunter had foolishly jumped in front of a more-than capable Piper as the creature lunged, catching her arm with its likely poisonous claws.

The wound was minor at best, nothing a quick poultice and a trip to Ezra wouldn’t sort out, but Piper is a stubborn woman, one who does t let things go easily.

“I… was distracted. I didn’t want to see you hurt, Piper.”

Piper scoffs loudly, plum coloured lips curled into a perfect snarl. “And you think I’d rather see  _you_  hurt? You’re a bloody fool.”

She cleans her hands off on a towel, and swiftly removes her shirt. She points to a crooked scar that cuts across her abdomen. “Lycan.” Then, another at her neck. “Vampire.”

“Piper, I—“

“Shut up,” she snaps, turning and presenting her scarred back. “Too many to remember, but mostly Demons”

The Hunter has these scars memorised already, she’s spent many a morning beneath sleep-warm sheets with Piper, tracing the silvering shapes with a curious finger.

“I’m sorry,” she sighs, stepping forward to catch Piper’s wrist. “I just care about you, maybe a little too much.”

Piper rolls her eyes, but it’s playful, and the Hunter can see she’s slowly calming, softening as much as is possible when you’re Piper Meriman.

She reaches up and brushes a lock of chestnut hair behind her ear, smiling as Piper finally meets her insistent gaze. “You’re still a fool,” she whispers, stepping forward, pressing a kiss to waiting lips.


	125. Simple Things (Ezra x Hunter)

Light streams through the crack in gauzy curtains, stirring Ezra from a blissful sleep. He sits up, blankets draped haphazardly across him as he rubs the sleep from his eyes.

He glances at the body that lays beside him, sheets a tangle about their feet where they’ve fidgeted in the night.

He smiles as he looks at them, lured back down against the mattress by all of that bare skin. He reaches out and traces the dip and curve of their spine, a trail he’s long memorised, has traced with fingers and lips.

“If you’re trying to wake me up, it’s working,” they mumble, words muffled against their pillow.

Ezra nuzzles close, throwing an arm over their waist as he buries his nose in messy hair. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

They face each other, legs entwined as they listen to birdsong, the quiet rustle of Lunaris coming to life, and they fall asleep.


	126. Relax (Finn x Hunter NSFW)

“Relax.”

 _Relax?_  That’s easy for you to say, he thinks, because Finn isn’t the one with a beautiful, centuries old vampire between his shamelessly spread thighs.

“I’m… I  _am_  relaxed, thank you.”

Finn hums, ignoring him as cold fingertips dance over his hipbones, flirting lower,  _lower_.

_Ah, fuck…_

The Vampire throws him a sly smile, one that bares his fangs, and, oh… they’re quite sharp, aren’t they?

Golden eyes flicker up to catch his gaze, an iron hand curling around the length of him, the chill divine against overheated skin as he strokes him languidly.

Finn licks his lips, and he’s the picture of perfection, of debauchery, and the Hunter shudders as he leans in.

He traces the underside of him with an eager, talented tongue, licking a wet stripe from base to tip, tasting the salt of him. The Hunter’s fingers twisting in the sheets, toes curling against the mattress, and he’s about to lose his  _goddamn_  mind.

And then…

And then Finn moves to take him in his mouth,  _really_  take him, because god knows Finn is adept at this, but…  _shit_.

“Wait!”

Finn shoots him a glare, and the sight makes him shudder, his cock resting upon that perfect,  _full_ bottom lip.

“I… shit. Finn, your fangs, they uhhh… they make me a little nervous,” he blurts, cheeks heating, feeling like a complete and utter  _twat_.

Finn quirks a dark brow and pulls away slightly, lips glistening as he tightens his grip, stroking once, twice, twist, repeat.

The Hunter arches his back, seeing stars, and there’s nothing quite like the feel of those fingers around him.

“Nervous, hmm? I see.”

Finn moves to retreat, but the Hunter claws at broad shoulders, scrambling not to lose that contact, that sensation. “No, no, no. Where are you going? I didn’t say stop!”

“You said ‘wait’!”

They sit locked in a stare-off, a ridiculous one because Finn still has him in his hand, and he’s still looking at him like  _that_  with his pretty eyes and mouth and hair and…  _fangs!!!_  “I did, but…”

“Baby, I’m not going to hurt you,” he purrs, hands exploring his thighs, driving him closer and closer to insanity as the seconds pass. “Trust me, let me taste you.”

A groan falls from his lips, a helpless,  _pathetic_  whimper of a thing, and he’s weak for him, always. “Please…”

Finn chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as he flicks his tongue over the crown once again.

As Finn takes him right down to the root with an expert glide, the Hunter accepts that he knows  _exactly_  what he’s doing.

He suddenly forgets all about those silly, pointy things when he discovers that Finn’s mouth can do so many other, wonderful things…


	127. Can't Dance (Finn x Hunter)

“That’s it, just ano— _ouch_!!”

Finn grimaces, catching her about the waist as she stumbles thanks to his not-at-all fancy footwork.

“I’m sorry! I told you, this is futile. I’m a lost cause, just… let me sit and watch you?”

She grits her teeth, trying to bite back the pain. Having a six foot four, well-built vampire stand on your toes is… not pleasant.

“But…”

He cups a hand to her cheek, thumb brushing over warm skin, eyes alight in the dullness of the tavern. “It’s fine,” he grins, moving her into a perfect, sweeping dip and pressing a kiss to waiting lips, one that leaves her decidedly breathless.

He pulls her upright, turning to catch Ezra’s arm. “Dance with her for me?”

She’s still a little flustered, cheeks burning, the feel of cool lips lingering upon her own. She watches him eagerly slide back into their booth to uncork his whiskey, taking a generous gulp straight from the bottle.

Ezra takes his place, offers her his hand. “I tried too, but there’s only so much trauma ones toes can take.”

She shrugs, stepping in time with the music, Ezra the perfect partner. “I guess he makes up for it in other ways.”

Ezra quirks an eyebrow at her as he reels her in from a well-executed spin. “Preaching to the choir, my friend.”


	128. Clean (August x Hunter)

He gingerly knocks on the bathroom door, hearing a quiet, echoed, “Enter,” from inside.

“August, I…”

He pauses, biting his lip as his gaze falls upon the unfairly beautiful sight before him.

August untangles their hair from it’s neat queue, long, elegant fingers running through silvering strands. They glance up at him, raising a brow in question at his non-sentence. “Yes?”

He’s forgotten what he wanted, possibly even forgotten his  _name_  as he steps forward, kneeling beside the extravagant claw-foot tub, smiling at the object of his affection. “Do you need help?”

August stills their actions, sky blue gaze meeting his own, the faintest kiss of colour sweeping across chiselled cheekbones. “Help with what?”

He gently pulls August’s wrists away, doing his best to ignore the way they look in the water, candlelight illuminating them, making them look almost ethereal. “I uh… I could wash your hair?”

August’s flush darkens, spreading over the top of their chest like spilled wine,  _gorgeous_. They clear their throat, blinking a little quickly before they regain their composure. “Yes, go on then.”

He smiles, moving until he’s settled behind them, rolling up his sleeves as August dips beneath the surface. Their hair curls at their cheeks, and he grabs the expensive lavender soap from a shelf that also houses a full glass of red wine.

He sinks his fingers into their hair, carefully massaging their scalp, the smell of the soap, of  _August_ , is delectable.

August let’s out a breathy sigh as he washes away the lather, resting their head back against the rim, smiling mischievously up at him. “You’re good with your hands, aren’t you?”

The Hunter shrugs, nonchalant, leaning in to press a kiss to their throat, another to their jaw. “Oh, you have  _no_  idea,” he purrs, hands roaming over their shoulders, resting upon their chest.

August hums, a smile curling at their lips. “Why don’t you show me?”


	129. Good Demon (Finn & Omen)

Finn eyed the Demon as he took a seat beside him on the small sofa in Ezra’s kitchen, feeling the heat radiating off him in delightful, comforting waves.

Omen managed to look anywhere but Finn, staring at the ceiling, the floor, a non existent piece of lint upon his trousers.

Finn couldn’t read his thoughts, but if he could he still doesn’t think he’d be able to figure the Demon out.

Ezra had taken a shine to him, taking him in like he did with all wounded things, and Finn loved Ezra, so…

“Omen…”

His head snaps up, pretty chestnut eyes meeting Finn’s gold, a light flush sweeping across pale cheeks. “Y-yes?”

Finn offers him his best smile, the friendly one with little fang. “Are you okay?”

Omen frowns a little, his lips curving downward, and the sight would wrench Finn’s heart if it could.

“You know you can talk to me, yes? That I’m your friend?”

Omen let’s out a sharp, loud exhale, all the tension he held in his shoulders melting away. With another huff he suddenly and dramatically slides closer, his head falling to rest against Finn’s shoulder. “I like Alkar, but I don’t understand him. You’re close with him and… and I need help.”

Finn stiffens from the contact, the feel of his skin scorching, but not unwelcome. He pauses, the Demon still huffing, fidgeting, clearly in distress over his crush.

He tentatively slings his arm around Omen’s shoulder, and Omen snuggles closer, making a charming little noise as Finn sinks his fingers into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.

“Alkar is… different,” he smirks. “Be patient, just sit quietly with him. He’s not one for deep conversations and has little time for games. Though I get the impression you could be quite forward if you gain the confidence.”

Omen hums his agreement, reaching out to pick at the hem of Finn’s shirt with a black fingernail. “I’m new to all of this. These human feelings.”

Finn laughs, tipping his head back to ray it against the wall with a thud. “I‘m closing in on seven hundred and I still don’t understand them, and I was one, once.”


	130. His Clothes (Finn x Hunter NSFW)

She does it on purpose, he’s sure of it.

A lazy stretch, toes pointed, hands above her head so that the fabric of his shirt rises high on her hips. There’s a growl in his throat, a deep rumble he can’t contain, his predatory instincts sometimes hard to suppress.

Especially when there’s such tempting prey.

She looks up at him where he kneels before her, hungry eyes roaming his naked torso, lip tugged between her teeth, and Finn comes to realise that maybe  _he’s_  the prey, the one being hunted.

A crooked finger, and she lures him in, her hair a halo where it’s splayed upon a dark pillow, legs parting shamelessly as he places himself between them, covers her.

_Touch me._

He finds her hooded gaze with golden eyes as he slowly unbuttons the shirt, spreading it open but leaving it on. He cups a breast in his palm as she plants her feet against the mattress, a soft groan falling from parted lips as he drags a cool thumb over the peak.

His hands move over her body, the coldness of him stark against her blistering warmth. He travels over the curve of her hip, waist, presses close, a teasing grind to let her feel  _exactly_  what she does to him.

He kisses his way up her body, over stomach and breast until he finds the flesh of her throat. A careful kiss, a bruising mark sucked against flushed skin as her legs wind around his waist, urging him closer.

_Please, please, please._

He tugs her earlobe between his teeth. “I should make you wait for the way you’ve seduced me,” he purrs, feeling her shudder as cool breath hits her skin, gooseflesh prickling.

But he doesn’t,  _can’t_ , and instead he kisses her, tongue against tongue, her hands finding the waistband of his loose trousers, pushing them down just enough to get to what she desires the most.

The kiss breaks when she curls delicate fingers around his length, stroking once before withdrawing her touch, his forehead resting against hers, a hiss through clenched teeth. “I asked nicely,” she whispers, knowing he’s heard her pleading thoughts.

He smirks and rises to his knees, carefully watching the heavy rise and fall of her chest, the way she trembles with anticipation, no matter how much she tries to hide it.

“You did,” he sighs, tilting his head as he grabs her by the waist, dragging her closer with a powerful tug that has her groaning.

He sheaths himself to the hilt with a steady roll of his hips, her heat unmatched,  _scorching_ , drawing a ragged moan from his lips. He savours the feel of her before pulling out slowly, thrusting back inside, finding a rhythm of shallow, languid thrusts.

_Finnegan…_

She arches her back, a silent plea for more, harder,  _faster_. He knows how to unmake her, became an expert in that long ago, and he loses himself in the tight,  _slick_  heat of her, his punishing pace making her gasp.

He falls forward, bracing himself against the bed with an iron hand, their lips but a breath apart. She looks up at him with blown-black eyes, the intensity of it making him smile, because he knows that look, the one that she can’t stifle.

He feels her tighten around him, wave after glorious wave, her feet sliding against the mattress, fingers fisting the sheets, toes curling.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she manages, drawing a laugh from him, one that morphs into a growl as he clenches his jaw and finds his bliss, filling her up with a stuttering thrust.

She winds her arms around his neck, lip finding lip as she pulls him close, lick deep into his mouth as if she’s been drowning and he’s that first gasping breath as she breaks the surface.


	131. Gentle Things (Finn x Hunter)

The Hunter is wounded, not in body, but in…  _ego_.

He encountered a particularly nasty witch, one with a sharp tongue and an even sharper taste for spells that toy with the mind.

Before he skilfully plunged his favourite dagger into her chest, she managed to make him believe a number of things. Things that may or may not have him pouting whilst sat cross-legged upon Finn’s too-comfy mattress.

All Finn can do is smile, that stupid,  _gorgeous_  smirk on his stupid,  _perfect_  lips as the Hunter recounts the witches scathing insults.

“She said my nose is crooked. It’s not, is it?  _Is it_?”

Finn rolls his eyes, crawling forward until they’re mere inches apart. He places his hands upon the Hunter’s arms moving down, then back up in a comforting drag. “How many times do I have to tell you how beautiful you are?”

The Hunter arches an eyebrow. “Crooked nose and all?”

A soft smile crosses Finn’s lips as he reaches out, carefully brushing a lock of hair behind his ear, cool fingertips tracing the shell of it, trailing down over the line of his jaw.

He stops at his chin, curling his finger and tilting his face upwards to meet his earnest golden gaze. “You don’t have a crooked nose, and even if you did I’d still find you impossibly beautiful.”

The Hunter narrows his eyes as Finn rises onto his knees, leaning over him to cup his face in two big palms. He presses a kiss to the tip of his nose, to each cheek, to his forehead, each lingering a little longer than the last.

He crinkles his nose, unable to stop himself from smiling at the ridiculousness of him as he continues to lavish him with quick kisses. “What are you  _doing_ , Finnegan.”

Finn shrugs, as if it’s obvious, the Hunter laughing as Finn’s lips finally find his own, both of them falling back against dark sheets, the witches words long forgotten.


	132. Sick (Finnzra x Hunter)

Finn presses a cool palm to their forehead, smiling as they groan their appreciation. Their skin is  _hot_ , slick with sweat, and the coldness the Vampire’s touch brings is more than appreciated.

“Who’d have thought that something as simple as a common cold would render the town’s Hunter General totally useless, hm?” Finn teases, laughing as the Hunter tries to prod him in the ribs.

Ezra sighs loudly, throwing Finn a stern glare as he emerges with pestle and mortar in hand. “Finnegan, leave them be.”

Finn winks at him, and Ezra can’t stifle the smirk that twitches at his lips at the sight of it.

“He’s just cross that my touch is more healing than whatever vile concoction he’s brewing,” Finn whispers, loud enough for Ezra to hear.

“This  _vile_  concoction will have them back on their feet in no time, so hush,” he grins, spooning the mixture into a mug and topping it up with a generous amount of boiling water from the kettle.

The smell of lemon and something herby fills the room, and the Hunter drinks it in one go, nose crinkling thanks to the sour taste. “Thank you, Ezra.”

Finn huffs, pouting and moving to pull his hand away, but the Hunter grabs his wrist, holds him in place. “You’re not going anywhere.”


	133. Lavender (August x Hunter)

He watches with a smile as August slowly lets the water engulf them, the relief that crosses their features making him laugh.

As the water washes over their shoulders, it’s as if all the tension that was once held in them melts away, and August becomes  _August_ , not Enforcer Willenheim.

He grabs their ankle, kneading the arch of their foot with deft fingers, and the answering noise August makes can only be described as  _sinful_.

“Long day?”

August smiles lazily, sinking a little further, water lapping about their chin. “You could say that.”

The Hunter shifts, adjusting their position as he reaches for them, August moving willingly into his arms. Water sloshes over the side of the tub as they settle back against his chest, long hair coming free of their neat ponytail.

He presses a kiss to the crown of their head, laughing quietly as they crane their neck to look up at him with an accusatory arched brow. “You can do better than that.”

He catches their lips in a kiss, a tender thing, and as they break apart August hums their appreciation, lacing their fingers together beneath warm, lavender scented water.


	134. Coco (Finn x Ezra)

It’s two thirty in the morning, and Finn is in Ezra’s kitchen fussing a rather insistent, meowing Coco.

She lured him downstairs and began circling her bowl, chattering loudly until he provided her some milk in the hope it would shut her up so Ezra wouldn’t be disturbed.

“Bloody cat,” he scowls, arms folded across his chest as he leans back against the counter, hearing bare feet hitting the floorboards above him.

He sighs, throwing Coco another deadly glare, silently cursing her. Quiet footsteps pad down the stairs, and a half asleep Ezra appears, a hand stifling a rather impressive yawn.

His hair is a charming mess, curls sticking up in every direction, pretty emerald eyes half-lidded as he blinks in the soft candlelight. “What’s going on down here?”

Finn opens his mouth, but quickly finds himself lost for words as he takes in the shirt that covers Ezra’s otherwise bare form.  _His_  shirt.

He’s seen him naked more times than he can count, knows the feel of that warm, russet skin, every dip and curve committed to memory, and yet…

And yet there’s  _something_  about seeing him wearing that oversized scrap of black fabric.

The way it barely covers the tops of his thighs, inching higher with every careful movement of his arms. The way the too-long sleeves fall past his fingertips. The crooked way he’s done up the buttons, the column of his throat and his sharp collar bones beautifully on display.

Coco snaps him from his little daze, swirling about his feet, tail curled as she purrs loudly. Without taking his eyes off Ezra, he reaches for the door, the cat darting outside without looking back.

He presses it back into his hinges, hearing the telltale click of the lock. Then, he’s closing the space between them with one big stride, scooping Ezra up, lithe legs wrapping around his waist, a squeak of surprise falling from smiling lips.

“Finnegan!” Ezra giggles in faux-protest, arms winding around his neck as Finn takes the stairs two at a time.

He enters the bedroom and drops him upon the mattress, grinning as colour kisses his dark cheeks, crawling over him. “Yes?”

Ezra bites his bottom lip, Finn fixing his gaze, staring him down as he stalks closer; a Hunter and his prey.

“You,” he whispers, shaking his head as he reaches for him, elegant fingers curling at his cheek, “will be the death of me.”

Finn quirks a dark brow, pressing himself close, pushing a hand up beneath the hem of the shirt, watching a shiver roll over Ezra as cool fingertips graze his hip. “Says the man wearing  _that_.”


	135. Bookworm (Finn x Hunter)

The Hunter fits comfortably between his legs, leaning back against a broad chest, a book open in his hands.

Finn has read this book a hundred times, maybe even more, and he’s long grown bored of its words, but as he watches  _him_  read it for the very first time, he finds joy in them once again.

A love story, one that makes the Hunter’s lips curve into a soft smile, makes him sink a little deeper into Finn’s embrace.

Finn buries his nose in soft hair, breathes him in, all clean cotton and home and  _his_.

The Hunter’s fingers move in slow, soothing circles against Finn’s skin as he reads, a comforting,  _warm_  touch upon his forearm, and Finn decides they can stay like this forever if he pleases.

The Hunter sighs, content as Finn brushes back his hair where it falls in his face, tucking it behind an ear.

When he decides to stop, to place a ravens feather between pages to keep his place, Finn winds his arms around his waist and pulls him closer. The Hunter melts against him, turns his head, lip seeking lip in a gentle kiss, a kiss that lingers.

“Do you like it?”

The Hunter nods once, eyes shining, “It reminds me of us, of you.”

Finn crinkles his nose, playfully mocking the sappiness of him, laughing as the Hunter makes a show of trying to escape him, cheeks flushed a delightful pink.

He peppers his throat with insistent kisses, smiling against warm skin until the Hunter relents, relaxes. “You’re insufferable, Vampire.”


	136. Unforeseen (August x Hunter)

They watch him over the top of yet another report, unable to tear their gaze from him, cross at themselves for…  _feeling_. 

August’s walls were built tall and strong long ago, shielding them from rough words and unwanted things. They reinforce it if cracks threaten to appear, but now all they find themselves wanting to do is carefully break it down brick by brick, let a little light in.

Because of him. 

They know it’s unfair to hate him for being kind, smart, capable, _handsome_ , and yet they can’t seem to help it. There’s a bitterness inside them that makes them believe they deserve to wallow in the pain of this (probably) unrequited attraction, to just… stroll through life feeling alone, miserable.

But then there’s the not-so-subtle glances August has caught him throwing them, the way he smiles when he realises they’ve seen, his lips curving upward in a way that can only be described as tempting. 

They aren’t sleeping, mind racing with thoughts of him, of the way his eyes sparkle when he laughs, the curve of his nose, the way their fingers brush when they walk side by side. 

They find themselves smiling as he writes his report, the one that’s _late_ , that they dragged him here to complete. When he’s concentrating he bites his bottom lip, his brow drawn as he scribbles on the parchment, his handwriting positively atrocious, but that somehow only makes him more endearing. 

_Ridiculous._

He looks up, and August drops their gaze a second too late, their cheeks heating as the Hunter stands, that stupid (gorgeous) grin plastered across his lips. “All finished. I hope it’s satisfactory.” 

August clears their throat, setting aside the pile they cling to so they can survey his work. They raise a brow, trying and failing to stifle a smirk as they catch sight of the little ‘x’ he’s added after his signature. 

“Hunter, what exactly is  _this_?” 

He makes a point of joining August behind their desk, of getting more than a little close, leaning over them to get a good look at exactly what they’re querying. 

He smells like fresh air, like  _heaven_ and clean cotton, and August makes the rash decision to lean back in their chair. Their shoulder brushes against his side, and the way it makes them shudder should be embarrassing, but the simple thrill invigorates them, makes them wonder…

“Oh,  just a little kiss, Enforcer. Have you not seen one before?” 

August smiles, emboldened as the Hunter leans closer, the thrum of their heart so frantic they think it may very well break through their chest. 


	137. Feed (Finn x Hunter)

Finn is restless tonight.

There’s a dull ache in his shoulder, one that requires a good meal to vanquish, but he doesn’t quite have the heart to wake either of them.

Instead, he paces, as light on his feet as always, a shadow in the darkness as they slumber peacefully.

The room is already spotless, yet he still fusses with the trinkets that line his shelves, stacking letters and old sketches, and yet  _still_  nothing can distract him.

He takes a seat in the armchair in his bedroom, groaning as he stretches out his arm, the iron of it feeling heavy today. He flexes his fingers, still amazed even after five years that such an intricately crafted thing is possible, that it’s  _his_.

His sketchbook taunts him, and he quietly retrieves it from the nightstand, smiling as the Hunter shifts in Ezra’s arms, nuzzling her face against the crook of his neck.

They look so peaceful, infuriatingly beautiful wrapped up his dark sheets. He’d love nothing more than to crawl under there with them, to wrap them up in his arms and join them in their dreams. Instead, he finds an old piece of worn-down charcoal, and he draws.

After a little while he spots her waking, a lazy smile on her lips as she carefully pries herself from Ezra’s embrace. He swiftly forgets his sketch, the sight of her approaching in one of his shirts and little else more than enough to distract.

The sleeves hang past her hands, the hem of it skimming the tops of perfectly curved thighs, and he sighs contentedly as she climbs in his lap.

She’s warm, impossibly so, and as he nuzzles her jaw with a cold nose she shivers. She melts into his arms, stifling a yawn against the back of her hand, a yawn that ends with a sly grin.

”Why don’t you come lay with us?” She whispers, fingers idly rearranging his raven curls. “We sleep better when you’re there.”

He makes a non-committal noise, shrugging lightly. She registers his subtle wince as he jostles his arm, delicate fingertips immediately ghosting over the join at his shoulder, where scarred flesh meets iron.

She frowns, meeting his gaze. ”It’s bothering you?”

”A little. It’s fine,” he lies, reaching up to brush the crease in her brow away with his thumb. “Really.”

She clearly doesn’t buy it, and he curses those instincts of hers, the way she can read him like a book. “When did you last feed?”

He pokes a fang with the tip of his tongue, flinching away as she playfully swats him, sussing that he’s stalling. “Maybe about a month ago.”

”You know better. Now, come on,” she purrs, pulling her hair away from her shoulder, tugging the collar of the shirt aside. “Please?”

He swallows as his gaze falls to the perfect, tensed column of her throat, her pulse fluttering in kind, and he can truly do little to refuse.

He runs his hands up along bare thighs, urging her closer. He watches intently as her eyes flutter closed, her bottom lip tugged between her teeth.

_Finnegan…_

A plea, his name on repeat in her mind, breathless and  _beautiful_  as he presses his lips to warm flesh.

He’s careful, his touch soothing over her spine as his fangs sink deep, as the warm,  _wet_  rush coats his tongue, that heavenly taste he’s become spoiled by.

She whimpers, her hands in his hair, cradling the curve of his skull as she pulls him closer, and he’s pleased to find the ache in his shoulder has faded immediately, her blood healing him like no elixir ever could.

She smiles at him as he pulls away, catching a stray drop with her thumb as she presses it to his lips. “Come to bed,” she repeats, and this time he obliges.


	138. Melody (Finn x Hunter)

He smiles to himself, sitting proudly in an old armchair and setting his book aside to observe something,  _someone_  far more interesting, far more lovely.

You hear no birds chirping down here, no comforting bustle of people going about their day on the streets below your bedroom window, but now he has the pleasure of hearing  _her_.

Her thoughts are skittish tonight, a dream he can’t quite piece together, but it makes him smile anyway, makes him curious.

Her lips twitch, her fingers too, the melody of her thoughts brightening this once dull place, brightening his days.

Long hair spills across dark pillows, and she shifts slightly, a mumble, a frown, and then everything is silent once again, no sound but for her steady, comforting breaths.

He picks up his book, settling back in his chair where he hadn’t even realised he’d leaned forward, and he waits for morning.

Morning when he can coax her awake with gentle fingertips, a kiss to the forehead, when her sleepy silence will be replaced with a whispered, “I love you,” - the greatest melody of all.


	139. Midnight (Finn x Ezra)

Ezra wakes to the sound of wood creaking, but no magic glows in his palm as the mattress shifts, as a silent intruder joins him beneath the sheets.

He smiles as a cold body presses against his own, legs tangled, iron fingers pushing into thick curls, lips finding the curve of his jaw.

He groans softly, voice still thick with sleep, and he pushes back as Finn runs a hand down his arm, gooseflesh spreading in its wake. “It’s been two days,” he whispers, “I mis— _fuck_ …”

He’s silenced by sheets being peeled back, by claws digging into his naked waist, tugging, his hips meeting the hardness of Finn’s, seamed so tight he forgets what he was going to say.

“I missed you too,” Finn purrs, his voice dripping with want, with  _hunger_ , and Ezra knows what he’ll find if he turns to face him.

The danger of it always excites him, the thought that this creature needs him, depends on him,  _wants_  him. “Take what you need.”

Finn’s hand travels lower, over the curve of his thigh, nails rasping, his nose buried amongst the soft hair that curls at the nape of his neck.

He growls, quiet, vulnerable, and Ezra tilts his head, exposes the perfect, sharp column of his throat.

His breath is laboured, the anticipation driving him mad.

When dagger-sharp fangs finally sink into his flesh it’s like he’s breathing for the very first time. The white-hot sting of it followed by a rush, a release.

Finn’s hand returns to his hair, the other splayed flat upon his stomach, holding him steady, keeping him close.

He drinks, just a little, but enough for Ezra’s thoughts to wander, a little dizzy, a little crazy as his lips curl into a grin, Finn’s name a whisper as it rolls off his tongue.

It’s over before it’s even really begun, and as soon as Finn is finished he’s turning him in his arms, finding his lips with a kiss that tastes like copper and  _sin_.

Ezra moves over him, blind with want, a hunger of his own settling deep in the pit of his stomach, thick between his thighs.

He finds golden eyes in the darkness, and he smiles.


	140. Daybreak (August x Hunter)

A breeze slips through the crack in the wide window, rustling the lavish curtains, noise filtering in from the street below.

He shifts to rest his head upon his hand, careful not to disturb a still-sleeping August, all too happy to lay and observe the way the early morning sunlight flickers across their face.

They’re nestled beneath crumpled sheets, features barely visible through wild hair that curls haphazardly at their cheeks.

He sighs, suppressing the urge to reach out and touch, to brush just  _one_  lock of hair aside and be granted full view of their beauty.

A bird begins to sing upon on the windowsill, the sun climbing higher in the sky, it’s rays warm as they hit his skin, morning calling for him to start his day. He slides an arm beneath August’s neck, his chest pressed tight against their back, and,  _oh_ , much better.

August sighs, a content, breathy thing, and the Hunter lets his hand drift down their arm, settling upon their waist and pulling them close. “Unfortunately I think we must get up,” he whispers, a kiss pressed between bare shoulder blades.

August murmurs in waking, shifting, turning in his arms, blinking themselves awake. “You know, I used to be a morning person before I had  _you_  in my bed.”

The Hunter grins, reaching to brush their hair aside, fingers curling at their cheek. “But isn’t  _this_ so much better than being punctual?”

August rolls pretty blue eyes, burying their face against his chest, letting out a dramatic sigh that swiftly morphs into an exasperated groan. “Can we not just stay here forever?”

”You’re the boss, why don’t you tell me?”

August grunts, and the Hunter laughs, pressing a kiss to the crown of their head, the sweet, now-familiar scent of lavender shampoo filling their senses.

They reluctantly emerge from the safety of his embrace, lips pursed into a tempting pout. “I wish you’d stop being good at your job, the paperwork is a nightmare,” they mumble.

He watches as they sit up, stretch, shivering as he runs a finger down over the curve of their spine, and August throws him a sly glance over their shoulder. “You’re pushing your luck, Hunter,” they scold, words betrayed by the wide smile that breaks out across full lips.


	141. Hope (Finn x Hunter)

They walk hand in hand, Finn cautiously eyeing the overcast sky, the grey haze that’s settled over his town, not a spot of sunlight visible.

It’s early afternoon, and he’s  _outside_.

The Hunter squeezes his hand, leather-gloved fingers warm where they’re tightly laced with his own, and he looks down to meet their sparkling gaze.

“It’s safe, stop worrying,” he says. “I’d be a terrible partner if I lured you to your death now, wouldn’t I?”

Finn huffs a quiet laugh, watching carefully as snowflakes fall and settle upon the Hunter’s hair, like stardust, making him look even more beautiful, impossibly so.

”You joke, but… this is a little terrifying. You have seen a vampire die before, yes? Terribly messy, I’d hate for you to have to scrape me off your nice coat.”

The Hunter crinkles his nose in disgust at the thought, shrugging. “I know a guy.”

Finn brings his hand up to rest beneath his chin, studying his features in the dull light, feeling like he’s really,  _finally_  seeing him for the first time.

“I’m glad you convinced me,” he whispers, enthralled, lost in a pair of pretty eyes. “It’s beautiful out here,  _you’re_  beautiful.

The Hunter exhales sharply, his gaze falling to rest upon Finn’s lips. “You look unfairly good in this light, Finnegan. Stop it immediately.”

Snow falls heavy around them, crunches beneath his boots as he steps forward to close the gap between them, finding soft lips with his own, welcoming the warmth of his kiss.

The Hunter sways against him, his arms winding around his neck, reeling him a little closer, that all important inch making everything seem a little more perfect.

Finn hums, utterly content, and all he can do is hope for more snow, for more days like this where he can step out before darkness falls, for more kisses in the middle of a deserted street with the man he loves.


	142. Tomorrow (Alkar x Hunter)

She stirs beneath warm sheets, sunlight peeking through the crack in the pathetic excuse for a pair of curtains that cover her window. 

A stretch, a yawn, and she turns to find him still here, still asleep. 

He’s curled up, knees drawn tight against his chest, his tail drooping over the side of the mattress, and she smiles. 

That frown is still present, even in his dreams, his lips moving with barely audible whispers, and she can’t help edging closer, feeling warmth coming off of him in waves as she reaches out to brush a fallen lock of dirty brown hair from his face. 

A sharp exhale, a grunt, and scarlet eyes are flickering open. He sits up quickly, looking around the room, that perpetual frown deepening. “It’s morning?” 

She huffs a laugh, dragging herself from the comfort of the bed, feeling cold floorboards against bare feet. “It is. Are you okay?” 

His gaze burns into her as she pulls on her robe, cheeks flushing deep, dusky rose as she catches him. “Uh… I have to go,” he mumbles, pausing at the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, or something.” 

She smiles, a little disappointed, but as he disappears she remembers what he told her last night, a few whiskeys in. 

_“If I ever say I’ll see you tomorrow, then know that I’m yours.”_


	143. Birthday (Finnzra x Hunter)

Finn grumbles under his breath as he’s carefully guided forward by two pairs of warm hands, soft laughter echoing around him.

They’re being careful to guard their thoughts, and his lips curl into a smirk as one of the Hunters seeps through.

_I love them both so much._

”You’re bad at this, my love,” he sighs, laughing as Ezra scolds them playfully.

“I told you not to think!”

The Hunter tightens their grip on Finn’s arms. “Didn’t have to tattle, did you?”

They tug him to a stop, untying the silk blindfold that covers his eyes. He blinks, finding himself in his quarters in the Catacombs, the dark room lit by a few flickering candles as always, but his gaze immediately falls to a neatly wrapped package that sits pride of place upon his desk.

He turns to find them both smiling from ear to ear, a joint, “Happy twenty fifth birthday,” laced with joy falling from their lips.

”Every year, Ezra? I’m closing in on 700.”

Ezra shrugs, stepping forward and arching up onto his tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Every year.”

Finn reaches for the gift, carefully untying the gold ribbon, the paper falling apart to reveal a small chest, lovingly hand etched with an intricate pattern that matches the markings on his arm, Ezra’s markings.

He runs his finger over the curves, tracing the pattern until he finds the clasps and pushes it open. Inside there’s two letters, signed by Ezra and the Hunter respectively, beside them a piece of gold jewellery with an emerald stone, and a small dagger etched with the Hunter’s name.

”We know you like to keep things to… to remember people by. We’ll fill it with memories together,” the Hunter whispers, a slight quiver to their words.

He closes his eyes, snapping the lid shut and resting his palm atop the wood. “I… thank you.”

Warm arms embrace him, heads resting against his chest. He presses a kiss to their temples, holds them close, and thanks the gods he found them.


	144. Underneath (Finn x Hunter NSFW)

He pushes open the heavy door to Finn’s quarters, finding no smiling vampire waiting for him, just an empty room, candles flickering dully upon his desk, his nightstand. “Finn?” **  
**

He takes a seat on the bed, pulling his boots off, groaning in delight as he spreads his toes, rubs the aching arches. He hears a gentle splash, eyes finding the bathroom door, spotting steam seeping through the crack. .

The clawfoot tub is large, full, and Finn smiles proudly as the Hunter steps inside, immediately reaching for the clasps and fastenings of his armour, freeing him from it’s confines. “I thought you might need to relax, after the day I’m sure you’ve had.” His weapons are set aside, steel and cloth stripped and left in a pile upon the floor, Finn’s cool touch trailing over his shoulder blades, tracing the line of his spine. “A bath, then  _bed_.”

The Hunter hums at the thought of it, the water enticing, but not quite as enticing as the lips that find the crook of his neck, a careful bite, one that doesn’t break the skin but leaves him wanting. Finn guides him backwards, helps him into the tub and climbs in behind him, tugging at him to settle back against his chest.

The water is the perfect temperature, soothing the dull ache that’s settled in his muscles as Finn flattens his hands over his stomach, moving down over his thighs, back up, and repeat. He presses reverent kisses to his shoulder, gentle, fluttering things as he savors the feel of him, his temperature a stark contrast to the heat of the water.

Finn washes his hair, a pleased groan rumbling deep in the Hunter’s throat at the rasp of nails against his scalp, the sensation sending sparks skittering across his skin. Finn huffs a laugh as his eyes flutter closed, his lips finding the shell of his ear. “I’m guessing that feels good?”

The Hunter twists in his arms, water splashing messily over the sides and onto stone, both of them grinning as he settles between Finn’s legs once more. “Quite good, not  _great_ ,” he teases, lies. He runs a hand over Finn’s chest. “Bath, then bed, was it?”

Finn smirks, and before he can even blink the Hunter is being placed upon the mattress, skin still slick with water, curious hands roaming his body. There’s power in his touch, restraint in the careful way he moves, leaning in to tug his bottom lip between his teeth, careful of his fangs.

Tongue against tongue, explorative,  _sensual_ , and Finn moves down over his throat, collarbone, catching a stray droplet of water with his tongue as he continues his descent. The Hunter watches him with half-lidded eyes as he gently nips at the flesh of his inner thigh, a hiss through clenched teeth as Finn breaks the skin, just a quick taste before he’s moving upward to capture his lips with his own once again.

“You’re tired,” Finn whispers, finding the Hunter’s hands, fingers laced as he pins his arms above his head. “Do you want to go to sleep?”

The Hunter gasps as Finn grinds against him, his movement full of purpose, the wicked glimmer in his eyes paired with the toothy smirk a total giveaway. “Am I supposed to say yes after  _that,_ you evil man?” He grins, groaning as Finn repeats the movement, feeling him hard against him, the friction delicious, deserved.

Fingers curl tighter around his wrists, hard enough to bruise, the ache welcome, and the Hunter can feel him press  _right there_ , right against his own hardness, testing him, a shameless,  _gorgeous_ tease. It feels good, simple, nothing better than the cool press of his body, an uncomplicated thrill as he rolls his hips over and over, finding a rhythm.

They laugh, breathlessly as Finn buries his face in the warm crook of his neck, both of them lost in the feeling, an ache blooming in the pit of their stomachs, a quick relief bubbling, building. A strangled moan tears it’s way from the Hunter’s throat as Finn reaches between their bodies, curling iron fingers around both of them, stroking in a perfect glide and catching his lips in a hungry kiss, swallowing the ragged noise he makes as he comes thick and  _hot_  upon his stomach.

Finn groans at the sight of it, chasing him with his own finish, his features twisting into something even more beautiful as relief washes over him, the Hunter’s name rolling off his tongue over and  _over_  until the word is kissed away by an eager tongue.


	145. First (Omen x Hunter)

She finds him in the forest, smiling to herself as she watches quietly from afar, his head tipped towards the sun, basking in its warmth.

His tail flicks happily, twitching once when he spots her walking towards him, a shy smile spreading across his charmingly handsome face, an outstretched hand offered to her. “You came.”

She twines her fingers with his, warmth seeping into her skin as he guides her to sit amongst the wildflowers. “Did you think I’d stand you up?”

He furrows his brow, warm brown eyes searching her face, trying to suss her out. “Stand… me up?”

”Oh, I mean… did you think I wouldn’t come,” she chuckles, edging closer, the grass soft against bare legs.

He blushes, the colour soft against pale skin. “No, I knew you would,” he whispers, reaching up to trace the curve of her lips. “I thought about you all morning.”

She swallows thickly, feels her own cheeks heating, the closeness thrilling, and she doesn’t say it, but his face has occupied her every thought recently. “Omen…”

The anticipation, the  _yearning_ , may very well kill her, she muses, watching the soft dip of his lashes as his gaze fall to her lips.

Then, with only a quiet, hitched breath as a warning, she surges forward to bridge the infinitesimal gap between them, eagerly bringing their lips together.

Omen makes a quiet noise and presses in tighter, her heart lurching in response. The way he smells, tastes,  _feels_  all exactly the way she had hoped.

Warm like summer, sweet like cinnamon, soft, soft,  _soft_.


	146. In Tandem (Finnzra x Hunter)

Finn lays as still as he can manage, two pairs of hands carefully making their way up along the expanse of his thighs, over hip and abdomen. They’re both laughing, eyes sparkling as they glance at one another, and Finn tries, and fails, to keep a straight face. 

“Look, he’s breaking,” Ezra mutters, lips quirked into a mischievous smirk, one that almost mirrors Finn’s own trademark smile, _almost_. 

He can hear the twin pounding of their hearts rattling in the cage of their ribs, blood pumping generously through their veins, focusing on that as he tries his hardest not to move, not to grab them by the waists and throw them down against the mattress, an instinct he finds hard to suppress. 

His hands curl into fists at his sides as they both cover him, bodies  _warm_ , flushed cheeks and chests as eager lips find his throat. He tilts his head back, giving them better access, eyes fluttering closed as they pepper his cool skin with reverent kisses, hands still roaming over his chest, Ezra’s lingering a little longer in coarse raven hair. 

Jaw clenched, teeth grinding as the Hunter descends again, moving down,  _down_ his body, deft fingers curling around the length of him, a quick dart of their tongue, a  _taste_  as they experimentally lave it over the crown of his cock, Finn hissing, hips bucking gently. 

Ezra plants a firm hand upon his chest, pushing him down, pinning him, nose to nose as he leans in and catches his golden gaze with bright,  _burning_  emerald, whispering a firm, “ _Stay_.” 

Finn quirks a dark eyebrow, impressed with the steady tone of his voice, the command in his stare. “You’re doing well,” he grins, watching Ezra’s cheeks darken, his resolve faltering for the briefest of moments before he’s surging in to catch Finn’s lips in a crushing kiss, one that bites,  _stings_. 

He greedily swallows Finn’s groan as the Hunter takes him in his mouth, right down to the root in a quick,  _slick_  glide before they’re pulling back, setting him free with a sinful ‘ _pop_ ’, inhaling sharply, filling their lungs before they’re diving back in. 

Finn fists the sheets, silken fabric ready to tear as he tugs, pulls, his resolve ready to snap as that hot mouth works him over, Ezra watching him closely, his desire evident. “Finnegan,” he purrs, nothing more to offer, but Finn is grateful for the way his name sounds rolling off his tongue. 

He feels that unmistakable tightening deep in his gut, the tingle, the burn, ready to let go because,  _fuck_ , that feels  _good_. He lifts his head, catches sight of the steady bob of the Hunter’s head, the way their fingers dig into his spread thighs, holding them open, their other hand still curled in a perfect fist around him, moving in tandem with their perfect mouth. 

_You’re close, aren’t you? I can tell._

Finn growls, Ezra’s thoughts loud, just for him, and he nods. “Maybe you should join them, they might need a hand.” 

Ezra laughs, the noise rumbling deep in his chest, unfairly long, dark lashes dipping seductively as he obliges, moving down to join the Hunter. They kiss, Finn left unattended for a brief moment, the loss of contact stark, but he resists the urge to whimper, to beg, needing to keep some semblance of control. 

Ezra takes over, replacing the Hunter’s mouth with his own, his gaze not leaving Finn’s as he moves to prop himself up against the headboard, arms resting behind his head as he takes in the too good to be true view before him. 

The Hunter strokes him still, both of them touching him, the sight, feel,  _sound_  of it all too much, too fast as Ezra hums around him, the noise sending a shiver rolling down his spine. He tenses, a ragged groan falling from his lips as he spills inside Ezra’s mouth, watching as the witch greedily swallows every last drop. 

“ _Shit_ , Ezra…” he pants, vision blurred, toes curled, feeling decidedly boneless and sated as they lean in to kiss one another, Ezra tenderly cupping their jaw, fingers brushing over the fine hairs at their temple. It’s intimate, and Finn can only smile at the thought of them both tasting him on their tongue. 


	147. Hide (Piper x Hunter NSFW)

Piper is a force, a whirlwind, and everything she does is filled with a passion that the Hunter wonders if anyone else could ever match.

The sheets are torn from around her waist as Piper settles between her shamelessly spread legs, those deep,  _dark_  sapphire eyes gazing up at her through long lashes. “No hiding, I want to  _see_ you.”

She groans as Piper nips at the soft flesh of her inner thigh, clever fingers walking agonizingly slowly to the place where she so desperately needs them to be.

“You’re a tease,” she whispers, afraid of the shake in her voice if she speaks too loudly.

Piper laughs, a joyful,  _mischievous_  chuckle as she runs her hands over her legs, licking her lips at the sight of her, diving eagerly between her legs, and playtime is over.

The Hunter groans as tongue meets flesh, her back arching, a hand seeking out Piper’s silk soft hair as she curls a strand around her fingers.

Piper goes slow, takes her time, her mouth every bit as deadly as her blade as her tongue, teases, a gentle pressure, fingers digging into the arching wings of her hipbones to hold her steady, stop her bucking.

Piper slips a finger inside, curls it, beckoning as she finds  _that_  spot with little trouble, the Hunter crying out and telling her she’s hit her mark, Piper’s name falling softly from her lips. “That’s right,” Piper purrs, “let me hear you, gorgeous.”

She plants her heel against Piper’s back, digging in insistently, urging her closer, wanting  _more_. “Fuck…”

Piper flattens her tongue over her, licking a quick,  _wet_  stripe from base to top, smirking against slick skin as the Hunter makes a strangled noise, her fingers twisting in her hair. “Is than a request, or an order?”

She sits back, wiping the wet from her lips with a careful finger, licking her digit clean with a pleased hum as the Hunter claws at her, both of them laughing wickedly as Piper falls against her, catching her lips in a kiss that tastes a lot like  _sin_.


	148. Hide (Finn x Hunter NSFW)

Cold fingers curl at the base of his spine, both of them stripped bare, the Hunter held firm against the wall, pinned by a big, broad body.

He’s shaking, the anticipation eating him alive, and they’ve gone days without seeing one another. The Hunter curses his job, thoughts of quitting and becoming permanently holed up underground with this tempting creature more than just an idle dream in times like this.

_What if…_

Finn chuckles in his ear, rustling the fine hairs that curl about his cheeks. “So loud,” he rasps, the Hunter’s cheeks painted a vivid dusky rose, actively trying to dull their thoughts to a whisper.

Both of them are harder than they have any right to be, Finn’s attentions eager,  _needy_ , savouring the Hunter’s shuddering exhale as his fingers dig into the arching wings of his hipbones, pulling him back, pushing him away.

His head lulls back against Finn’s shoulder, and sharp teeth come to rest upon the tense, perfect column of his throat almost unconsciously.

Finn pauses, waiting for that little noise of approval he’s become so accustomed to, so in-sync that it’s like they’ve known each other for a lifetime,  _centuries_.

”Finnegan,” he breathes, the word carried on an exhale, morphing into the most sinful of groans as fangs prick the surface of his skin, as Finn’s hips roll, a slick, steady guide, too slow to steal his breath, but deadly all the same.

_Yes. Like that. Slow, slower._

Finn smiles against his skin, and he knows because he can feel the way those lips are curling up at the corners, his bite not deep enough to feed, but enough to get the taste on his tongue, enough that their next kiss is sweet, copper.

Finn runs his hands over his sides, feeling rib and waist and hip, feeling sinew shift under warm,  _warm_  skin, his nose tracing the line of his jaw, nuzzling, appreciating the scent of him.

The Hunter feels overwhelmed, senses set alight, head falling forward as he feels his cheeks darken further, trying to turn away from Finn’s unwavering golden gaze to catch his breath, to regain some of that rapidly fading composure.

Iron fingers carefully push the curtain of hair that’s fallen between them aside, that cool brush welcome against overheated skin. “Please don’t hide,” Finn purrs, words punctuated by another careful thrust. “You’re so beautiful like this, let me see you.”

The Hunter obeys, and there’s something reassuring in sex, especially with Finn, a certain closeness, a connection, and Finn knows each and every way to unmake him, wether it be with a few whispered words, a carefully placed roll of his hips, or a twist of his tongue, he just  _knows_.

Faster now, the reverent laziness disappearing, replaced with something a little wilder, and with every push the Hunter’s toes curl, the wall cold against their chest as Finn pins them with powerful hips, pushing,  _pushing_  as deep as he can, fingers finding fingers, laced together and held tight.

“I c-can’t,” the Hunter stutters, pushing back, meeting him halfway, needing to feel all of him, his head finding its place upon Finn’s shoulder again, the vampire swallowing the ragged groan that tears it’s way from his throat with a kiss.

Finn feels the clench, hears the shift in his thoughts, and he lets go, muffling the sound of his own completion against sweat-slick skin, stars bursting behind his eyelids as he slowly pulls away, the loss stark, but not felt for long.

He turns him in his arms, finds those eyes, a lazy smile on a pretty mouth, marks upon his throat, the flush that’s spilled from his cheeks across the top of his chest enchanting. “Oh,” Finn smirks, the Hunter’s arms winding around his neck, Finn’s around his waist. “You look sinful,” he whispers.

The Hunter hums his response, unable to form words as Finn eagerly breathes in the scent of him, the scent of  _sex_.

“We didn’t make it to the bed again,” he muses, Finn’s soft, adoring gaze broken by a smile. “Ruined another of my outfits too,” he says, scolding, playful, and totally not giving an actual  _shit_ , not when he feels this boneless, this sated.

Finn shakes his head, transfixed, lost in the smile that breaks out across their face. “I missed you.”


	149. Words (Finn x Ezra)

Finn’s peace is disturbed by the clatter of heels upon stone, a heavy fist pounding at his door, and he knows that knock, expects it, even.

He rolls over to press a kiss to Ezra’s forehead, pulling the sheets higher on his waist, whispering a quiet, “Stay there,” before he removes himself from the bed.

He tries to listen, trying to hear even the slightest thought to gauge what the Enforcer might want from him today, but August is too clever for that, and all Finn can find is carefully constructed silence.

The door creaks as he pulls it open, wood scraping obnoxiously against stone, that icy blue, narrowed gaze meeting his gold. “Enforcer Willenheim,” he says quietly, still conscious of his sleeping partner. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

August rolls their eyes, fiddling with the hem of their black leather gloves before they place their hands behind their back, chin lifted defiantly. “Just a few questions about where you were last night.”

Finn sighs, leans against the doorframe, August’s gaze falling to his prosthetic, their cheeks heating with annoyance. “I was here all day, and all night. In fact, I haven’t left the Catacombs for three days, is that satisfactory?”

August scoffs, a perfectly sculpted eyebrow quirking. “Am I supposed to just take your word for it? Don’t play coy, you always have a perfectly crafted alibi, just give it to me so I can get out of this festering pit.”

Finn smirks, showing them the barest flash of fang, watching annoyance cloud their features even further. He hears Ezra stirring, rising, pulling on his robe, a cacophony of worried thoughts fluttering around his pretty head.

 _Let me speak to them_.

Finn drops his gaze from August, nodding once, pushing the door open a little wider, giving August what they want; an alibi.

”Gus… he was here, with me. I swear it.”

August’s nostrils flare at the sound of his voice, at the sight of him, their stance a little stiffer, and Finn longs to know  _why_.

”Of course he was, joined at the hip aren’t you? How romantic,” they hiss, staring Ezra down with utter discontent.

Ezra places a warm hand upon Finn’s chest, holding him back before he’s even noticed he’s stepping forward, a quiet, instinctive growl in the back of his throat. “Leave, August,” Ezra pleads, those earnest green eyes wide, watery.

August doesn’t falter, taking a confident step backwards, their lips set in a thin line, dark hair framing their angular face, set in shadows as they retreat quietly, the echo of their footsteps fading into the tunnels.

Finn is reaching for Ezra’s face as soon as the door slams shut, cupping it delicately between his palms. “Are you okay? You didn’t have to do that, you know. I can handle them just fine.”

Ezra smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and Finn knows how much he longs for August to be kind, to be how they used to be, to be  _friends_.

“It’s fine, that’s just Gus. They were never going to approve of us now, were they,” he sighs, a hand splayed upon Finn’s chest, fingers twitching above the spot where his heart lays dormant.

Finn frowns, leaning in, forehead to forehead, nose to nose, and Ezra sighs, content. “Let’s go back to bed.”


	150. Enforcer (August x Hunter NSFW)

The Hunter intends to distract, August can feel it in their bones, in the way he moves, the way his eyes won’t leave August’s as they furiously scribble upon yet another report, one of Piper’s tonight, her notes clearly rushed and almost illegible.  

“You can stay here as long as you like,” they mutter, standing to place the neatly marked bundle inside their cabinet, “but I’mmmph-–”

They’re startled as the Hunter surges forward, capturing their mouth, their bottom lip tugged eagerly between his teeth, his tongue _slick_  as it slides past their lips, taking full advantage of the way he’s surprised them.

August is weak for him, unable to even consider resisting, not when a firm hand pushes the fabric of their shirt up,  _up_ , fingers finding their skin, tracing the perfect dip and curve of their abdomen.

“No more work tonight,” he growls, pushing them back until they’ve no choice but to settle upon their desk.

They try not to smile, hungry ice-blue eyes taking him in as he locks the door, shedding his clothes as he strides with purpose back towards the desk. He offers August a wolfish grin before he’s leaning in, running his tongue over the shell of their ear, revelling in the groan he pulls from them as he nips at the flesh of their throat, fingers working blindly to bare their chest.

“You work too much,” he says, his voice pitched low, a sinful, rumbling cadence to it. He places himself between August’s shamelessly spread legs, hands running up the expanse of them, feeling muscle shift through soft fabric. “Let me distract you.”

August rolls their hips, grinding against him, seeking friction as an incessant, persistent ache forms thick between their thighs. “And how are exactly are you going to do that?”  

He smirks again, the sight of it enough to make August’s knees quake, and his answering kiss is hard,  _desperate,_ words unneeded as Augustreturns it in full. The Hunter reaches between them, deft fingers finding the waistband of their trousers, dipping inside, curling a fist around them. “Is this good enough?”

August groans their response, their head falling back as the Hunter strokes them in full, base to crown, a twist of his wrist, and how could they ever say no?

He leans in to litter August’s throat with kisses, his free hand pushing into soft raven hair, gentle as wild strands snarl about his fingertips, the way he’s looking at them making their heart clench, the devotion and utter adoration palpable. They feel so beautiful when he sets to pull them apart, when he so clearly savours the warmth of their skin, the press of soft lips against his own.

The rest of their clothes are forgotten, a mess of colourful cotton upon the tiles as the Hunter pushes inside, fingers digging into firm thighs, pulling August closer, setting a needy pace, the soft creak of weathered wood beneath them making them both smile, August huffing a broken laugh as they think back to a time where they could dream of doing nothing more than paperwork upon their desk.

Forehead to forehead, blown-black gazes locked, daring each other to look away, to miss the twist of pleasure upon their faces, but neither of them falter, transfixed,  _lost_. 

“So good,” August whispers, repeating it over and over again, needing him to  _know_ as that heat blossoms, spreading out from the base of their spine like curling vines. “With me,” August manages, the Hunter knowing, obeying, both of them letting go with twin choked-off cries, muffled against sweat-slick skin. 

A shared smirk as the Hunter catches his breath, stars behind their eyes as they reach up, fingers curling against their cheek.

“Well… I think I’ve finished my work,” August says teasingly, reaching up and putting their hand over his, holding him there.

The Hunter laughs, the sound a delight as he leans in and presses a quick kiss to their lips. “If that’s what it takes to get you to stop working, I’m happy to be of service each and every night,  _Enforcer_.”


	151. Beautiful (Finn x Hunter NSFW)

His fingertips are cold where they move lightly over their skin, the flickering candlelight casting shadows, revealing every scar, every freckle, every perfect imperfection.

The room is deathly silent apart from the sound of their breathing and the soft creak of the mattress, their hands trembling against his back, fingertips digging in,  _clawing_  at pale skin.

A few wild strands of hair snarl about their cheeks, Finn moving closer, if such a thing were possible, golden eyes burning bright as he looks at them, takes them in. “So beautiful,” he whispers. “You’re so  _beautiful_ ”.

He presses his mouth to their skin, unable to resist, tasting the salt-sweet sweat of them as he kisses a trail up along the tense column of their throat, finally finding their lips, greedily swallowing a quiet,  _desperate_  whimper.

Theres no space wasted between them, Finn’s movements unhurried,  _savouring_ , basking in every little hitch of their breath, every flutter of their lashes, the way his name rolls off their tongue over and over, like their favourite prayer, a benediction.

Their hand moves up over his spine, his neck, pushing into raven hair, messy strands snarling about their fingertips, fingertips that curl and tug, making him shudder.

The stutter in his steady rhythm is a revelation, one that makes them gasp against his parted lips, fangs sharp against their tongue.

He traces the curve of them, the shape of their body so familiar, every dip, every rib and swell of them committed to memory.

He holds their leg  _tight_ , hitching it higher around his waist, smiling against overheated skin as they hiss through clenched teeth, their skittering thoughts echoing loudly in his mind.

_More. Yes. There._

He treasures their warmth, the noises he can pull from them, the way they look at him as he picks them apart.

These cherished moments spent in each other’s arms, no words needed, and Finn has truly found his bliss.


	152. Chocolate (Omen)

“And what about this?” Omen asks, head tilting curiously as Ezra grates the bar into his mixing bowl. “It’s… brown.” 

Ezra smiles softly, glancing at the demon as he rolls up his sleeves, ready to get stuck in. “It’s chocolate, it’s delicious,  _sweet_.” 

Omen’s eyebrows shoot up, his eyes alight with wonder, carefully watching Ezra mix the ingredients with a wooden spoon, fingertips twitching upon the countertop. “Can… can I have some?” 

Ezra shakes his head. “I’m not really sure if it would be harmful to you, since you won’t really tell me what you are,” he grins, playfully nudging Omen’s arm with his elbow, laughing as pink blossoms across the demon’s cheeks. 

Ezra turns to retrieve some more flour from the cabinet, and Omen seizes the moment to dip his finger into the creamy mixture, tentatively pressing it to his tongue and grimacing at the dull burn. “Ouch.” 

“Omen!” Ezra chuckles, grabbing Omen’s chin and taking a quick look inside his mouth, tutting his disapproval. “Not life-threatening, but no chocolate for you.” 


	153. Gone (Finnzra x Hunter)

Finn moves through the tunnels in silence, turning corners without really even thinking about it, this route so ingrained in him he’s sure he could walk it blindfolded.

Something is troubling him, a feeling of dread that isn’t his own drifting through his mind, grabbing hold of him and  _twisting_.

He climbs the rusty old ladder and carefully,  _quietly_  lifts the hatch, hoping that his worry is unwarranted, that maybe one of them is just having a bad dream and he’ll find them sound asleep, limbs entwined.

Instead he finds the Hunter fully clothed, perched upon the edge of the bed, staring longingly down at a sleeping Ezra, fingers reaching out to brush his forelock from his face.

He leans in and presses a kiss to Ezra’s forehead, a kiss that lingers a little too long, one that reeks of ‘goodbye’.

Ezra’s nose twitches as he mumbles something incoherent, shifting slightly but not waking as the Hunter stands, turns, and apparently almost has a small heart attack at the sight of his undead lover observing them from the shadows, his shock swiftly melting into guilt as he hastily brushes past Finn on the way out of the door, eyes fixed on the floorboards.

Finn allows himself a final glance at Ezra, checking he’s still asleep before he’s following the Hunter down the stairs, catching him by his wrist before he can rush out into the night without so much as a whisper.

Finn feels anger boiling inside him,  _hurt_  as he presses him back against the wall. “Finnegan,  _don’t_ …”

There’s tears in his eyes, and the sight of it makes Finn pause, his gaze flickering over his features.

Tired, pained,  _sorry_.

“Tell me you’re not doing this,” he whispers, watching him close his eyes  _tight_ , banishing the sight of Finn crumbling before him with little hesitation. “Tell me you’re not leaving us.”

A single tear falls down his cheek, and he shakes his head, breathing in sharply, his breath shaking. “I can’t do that, my love.”

Finn releases his grip on his wrist, caught up in the need to reach up to catch a tear against his thumb, his touch lingering upon warm skin as he presses close, the Hunter placing a trembling hand upon Finn’s chest, fingers twitching, curling against soft fabric.

“Please don’t go,” Finn begs, unashamed at the quiver in his voice. “Or at least tell me  _why_. You owe me that, you owe _Ezra_  that. Was it something we did?”

The Hunter laughs quietly, a little manic, a little desperate, and Finn wants nothing more than to kiss him, for the Hunter to laugh some more and tell him that it’s just another of his silly jokes, that they should just go upstairs and climb beneath those warm sheets.

”This is just what I have to do,” he mutters, pretty eyes impossibly sad as they meet Finn’s gaze. “I hoped to just… slip away, to avoid  _this_ ,” he says, gesturing between them.

Finn pauses, taking stock of the pain that’s etched across his face, knowing that he doesn’t want this, but that something inside him is telling him he must, that he has no choice.

Finn knows what that feels like, and as much as it breaks him, he can do little to try an convince him otherwise.

Instead he leans in, brushes their lips together in the softest of kisses, feeling him sway gently against him, finding his fingers and lacing them with his own.

He kisses him in a way that says this isn’t over, this isn’t it for us, in a way that leaves them both aching for more. As they part, the Hunter smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach their eyes.

Finn takes a step back, hearing floorboards creak above them, the quiet pad of bare feet upon weathered wood. “Go, quickly. I’ll… I will tell him,” he stutters, the Hunter wincing at those words, maybe even faltering. He squeezes Finn’s hand, lets his fingers fall free of his grip, not allowing himself a final glance as he turns and walks out into the cold Lunaris night.

As Ezra calls to them down the stairs, his voice still happy, hopeful, Finn lets the barrier he’s been clinging to fall away, listening for a voice in the darkness, falling to his knees at the words he hears.

_I love you, I love you, I love you._


	154. Fireflies (Finn x Ezra)

Ezra is tucked safely beneath warm sheets, his face barely visible, his mess of dark hair splayed upon a too-white pillow, sticking up in all kinds of gorgeous, haphazard directions. 

Finn catches himself just watching him for a moment, leaning against the doorframe, a cup of warm tea clenched tightly in cold palms. He almost doesn’t want to wake him, not as his nose twitches, a little smile curling at the corners of his lips, and Finn pushes that barrier aside, lets himself see.

_Ezra is catching fireflies in a mason jar. He’s no older than five, maybe six, and a tall man with russet skin and freckles that mirror his own runs to scoop him up in his arms, Ezra laughing with unbridled glee, his eyes sparkling, beautiful._

He sighs, feels a pang of guilt for peeking, as he always does, no matter how many times Ezra tells him he doesn’t mind. He looks at the clock that hangs on the wall, deciding he’ll get a telling off if he lets his lover sleep any longer, moving to take each step carefully, avoiding that one pesky floorboard that he knows creaks loudly as he makes his way to the bed. 

He sets the mug down and takes a seat, the mattress sinking beneath his weight, but Ezra doesn’t stir, not even as he reaches to brush hair from his face his touch lingering upon a freckled cheek. Ezra sighs dreamily, and Finn can do little to resist climbing back into bed with him, because five more minutes never really hurts,  _does it?_

Finn slides his iron arm under Ezra’s neck, pressing his bare chest against Ezra’s back, bending his legs so they fit perfectly, like two puzzle pieces. He runs his other hand down Ezra’s arm, feels him shiver against him, the quietest whimper as he murmurs himself awake, lazily shifting and turning in his embrace. 

He pouts, unfairly long lashes a fan against the tops of his cheeks as Finn pushes his fingers into his hair, attempting to tame the wild curls. “It’s time to wake up,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose, huffing a laugh as Ezra shakes his head, blinking lazily before he buries his face against Finn’s chest. 

“It’s the weekend,” he mutters, voice still thick with sleep as he tangles his legs with Finn’s; an evil tactic. “Let’s stay in bed.” 

“You’re the one that wanted t–” 

Finn is silenced by a soft fingertip tracing the curve of his lips, his touch  _warm_ , gentle. He follows the line of Finn’s jaw, gaze shifting from his eyes down to his lips, the promise that lingers in those endless pools of emerald enough to have Finn yielding. 

“Maybe,” he whispers, words muffled against Finn’s mouth, “I’ve changed my mind.” 

_Touch me._

Finn lets that particular thought echo as he moves over him, hair hanging messily in Ezra’s face. They’re both smiling,  _laughing_ , Ezra tasting of sleep and sugar, always sweet as their tongues move slick against one another. Ezra’s hands map the broad expanse of Finn’s back, feeling muscle shift beneath pale skin, and they’ve both already forgotten that Ezra had plans. 

Ezra giggles as Finn growls, nuzzles his face against the warm crook of his neck, teeth lightly scraping over flushed skin, tongue tracing the careful tracks they leave. 

He always has an appetite for Ezra, a constant craving, a want, a  _need_.

It’s not just about feeding or bodily pleasures, but for the other things he offers, for the lazy mornings like this, for Ezra tucked tight against his side in the evenings as he tells him about his day, for moonlit strolls by the sea, for drinks in the tavern with fingers laced beneath the table. 

Just _… lucky_ , to be loved by someone like this. 


	155. Protection (August x Hunter)

August sits at their desk, eyes shut, fingers idly massaging their aching temples, the interrogation a little more than intense, the creatures thoughts lingering, a painful echo in their mind.

There’s a soft knock at the door, almost tentative, and August mumbles a quiet, “Enter,” not bothering to look up to greet their visitor.

Footsteps, the clang of steel and iron, and then there’s warm hands tugging at their own, pulling them away from their face. August groans, and even the dull light of the lanterns that line the walls of their office are too bloody  _bright_. They feel hands upon their face as they reluctantly crack open an eye, finding the Hunter’s concerned gaze staring back at them.

”August, you need to stop this,” he mutters brow drawn, and he’s angry, but his concern almost covers it. Almost. “How long was it today?”

August rolls their eyes, a defensive tactic they’re trying hard to break, and they snatch their hands from his grip, reaching for their temple once again. “I’m fine. Don’t you have work to do?”

The Hunter scoffs, steps away, and August feels that familiar pang of guilt, of disappointment rolling off the Hunter in waves. “I’ve completed my mission,” he grunts, throwing a heavy sheath of parchment onto the already substantial pile that lays untouched upon August’s desk. “Your orders, General?”

August can feel the hurt behind his words, the urge to protect, to  _help_ , but August is beyond help, aren’t they? “Go home.”

The Hunter lingers, shifting his weight from foot to foot, clenching and unclenching his fists, and August can tell there’s fighting words ready on the tip of his tongue, but as they look up to meet his unwavering gaze, what they find is anything but anger.

It’s… sadness.

”Let me help you. Let’s go to Ez—“

”Don’t say it,” August hisses, standing up from their desk a little too fast, feeling the room shift around them, but warm,  _strong_  arms catch them before they fall. Their fingers curl against cold armour as he holds them steady, breath warm and sweet as it rustles the soft hairs at their temple. “At least let me take you home, please?”

August huffs a laugh, his touch inherently soothing as they sag against him, giving in, giving up. “Fine, take me to bed.”

”Well, since you asked so nicely,” he teases, tension broken with a few simple words, a smile breaking out across August’s face.


	156. Staying (August x Hunter NSFW)

August has something that feels a lot like happiness heavy in their chest, a bliss as they kiss their lover.

They feel the smile upon the Hunter’s lips, his hands pushing into August’s hair, body to body as they lay bare beneath crumpled sheets, unable to stop touching, exploring one another.

It’s new, this ache that settles. It’s no longer one of loneliness, of sadness, but instead it’s…  _hope_. Hope for more, for  _this_  to be something permanent, and that’s dangerous.

The Hunter pulls back, his eyes slowly opening, looking up at August, the lightest trace of colour upon his cheeks, and August gets lost, wrapped up in his eyes, and they feel their chest stutter at the sight of the longing that they find there.

They want to speak, to ask him to stay,  _please_  stay, but words turn to ashes in their mouth, because something that they feel so deeply, something this foreign, is hard to explain.

The Hunter chases away the frown that unconsciously forms upon August’s brow as he hovers above them, kissing it away with the barest brush of his lips. His fingertips find their face, tracing a sharp cheekbone, the harsh line of their jaw. “You’re impossibly beautiful, do you know that? As if you were crafted from marble.”

August swallows thickly, catches his wrist with a curl of long fingertips. “Bold words,” they whisper, angry at the way their voice cracks, betraying them.

The Hunter quirks an eyebrow in question, but he doesn’t hesitate to press himself closer, August opening their mouth to him without question, the kiss tongue and teeth, wet and riddled with  _want_. His hands slide down August’s waist, over the curve of them, the tight muscle of them still soft as if shifts under his palm.

They’ve already done this dance tonight, but the ache that settles between August’s thighs tells them they need more, always more with him. “August,” he whispers, almost a purr as he scrapes his teeth over the tensed column of their throat, tracing his tongue over marks that are already fading.

August gasps against his mouth as the Hunter curls his fingers around their length, careful strokes that elicit quiet groans, whimpers, his hand tight between their bodies, a delicious friction for both of them. Their breathing shifts, changes, hitched and  _fast_  as the Hunter swipes his thumb over the crown of their cock, spreads the wetness that beads there down,  _down_  in a slick glide, his touch here as expert and deadly as it is in the field.

“I’m going to—“ August mumbles, looking up at him, his gaze burning bright in the darkness, that  _look_  still there, like August truly is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, even with their face flushed, unfocused eyes helplessly fluttering closed, strands of hair sweeping over their sweat-slick forehead, snarling about their cheeks.

He’s still looking, seemingly committing August’s features to memory, just… making them feel like they’re this wondrous thing, something so much more than August could ever dream of being. The Hunter catches them with another desperate kiss, their hips rocking together, his hand still tight around them,  _coaxing_.

They find their bliss together, the Hunter arching, tense and  _devastating_  above them as he muffles a groan into the crook of August’s neck, August staring up at the ceiling, fingers digging into the muscle of his back as they let their toes curl against the mattress, let that sweet thrill of release wash over them.

He shifts, and something ingrained inside of August makes them panic, hold him tighter,  _closer_ , a whispered, shaky, “Don’t go,” falling from their lips, and they feel weak.

The Hunter carefully draws back, just an inch or so, enough for August to see confusion settle upon his handsome face, then a flicker of recognition as he finds fear in August’s blue eyes.

“Oh, August.  _No_. I’m not going anywhere,” he smiles, soft before he’s cupping August’s face in strong hands, pressing an achingly gentle kiss to their lips, one that hurts their heart, makes them feel safe,  _wanted_.


	157. Rules (Piper x Hunter)

She finds Piper floating in the middle of the lake, the water decidedly filthy, but better than being caked in demon blood, she supposes. 

She swallows thickly at the sight of her, of tawny skin illuminated by the glittering moonlight, the water lapping lazily against her, so bare and  _beautiful_  it almost makes her whimper. “You’ll freeze to death in there,” she yells, blushing as Piper glares at her in response.

“I’d rather freeze to death than look like  _that_ ,” she responds, disappearing beneath the surface as the Hunter looks down at herself, taking in the sight of her ruined armour, stained crimson and black, dirt thick beneath her fingernails. 

Piper surfaces at the edge of the lake, and the Hunter finds herself staring, Piper’s long hair slicked back, not a trace of her makeup left, and she’s disarmingly gorgeous, a force to be reckoned with, something that seems wholly  _untouchable_. 

“Are you just here to ogle me, Hunter?” 

“I…  _no_! We need to report back to Enforcer Willenheim. We’re going to be late for our debrief.” 

Piper snorts her disgust. “Do you always follow the rules so diligently? How about you join me instead, get some of that  _shit_ off of you.”

She looks at Piper, then to the forest and back. This stubborn woman won’t take no for an answer, she muses, so with a quiet, frustrated sigh she unhooks her breastplate, letting all of her armor and what lingers beneath join Piper’s pile of discarded clothing in the grass.

She wraps her arms around herself as she  _slowly_ enters the lake, Piper’s eyes burning into her as the water laps around her waist, her teeth chattering as she’s finally fully submerged. “ _Shit!_  It’s freezing,” she hisses, teeth chattering loudly. 

Piper shrugs, a smirk playing on full lips as she reaches out, places her hands upon the Hunter’s shoulders. “You get used to it. May I?” 

The Hunter nods quickly, cheeks darkening as Piper’s strangely warm touch drags down her arms, slowly working their way over her skin, gooseflesh prickling in her wake. 

She presses close, runs her hands over her back, scrubbing away the dirt, pressing  _closer_ , the Hunter’s breath hitching as she feels Piper’s breath upon the back of her neck, the answering shudder that rolls through her body making her groan. “Piper…” 

Piper’s mouth finds her shoulder, a careful kiss placed there, then up,  _up_  along her throat, the Hunter leaning back, greedy for  _more_. 

“I get the impression you like to follow the rules,” Piper whispers, lips pressed to her ear, and the Hunter reaches back, finds her wandering hand and holds it  _tight_ as she nods _._

“I do. Is that going to be a problem?”

Piper swims around until she’s facing her, eyes bright, glimmering with mischief. She grins when she spots the stubborn red that blooms upon the Hunter’s cheeks, spilling across the top of her chest. “Well, _I_  like to break them. What do you say, Hunter?” 

The grip she has on Piper tightens for the briefest moment before she boldly closes the gap between them, catching Piper’s clever mouth with a hard,  _desperate_ kiss. 

They break apart, forehead to forehead, and Piper purrs a quiet, “That’s my girl,” before she grabs her about the waist, lifting her and throwing her into the murky depths with a cackle that echoes throughout the clearing.


	158. Lies (August x Hunter)

August clutches a pile of hastily written reports in their fingers, a hand in their hair, frowning as they read.

They look up for a brief moment of reprieve, catching sight of him stretched out upon the bed, expensive sheets slung dangerously low on his bare waist.

August sighs, tempted as they place the reports aside, other matters suddenly seeming  _far_  more urgent than a siren that may or may not be luring sailors to their death nearby.

As August quietly approaches, the Hunter stretches, curling in on himself, a smile spreading across full lips as the mattress sinks beneath August’s weight.

”Finally decided that I’m more interesting than those reports of yours?”

August scoffs, reaching out to run their fingers through delightfully sleep-mussed hair. “Not likely.”

“It’s too early, and your bed is far too occupied for you to be busying yourself with paperwork,” he mutters, his deep voice thick with sleep, deliciously raspy.

August wholeheartedly agrees, cupping his face between their hands, holding him there. Their eyes flicker over his features, counting freckles and scars, leaning in close, close enough for their noses to knock. “My duty to the cause is more important than my carnal desires,” they smirk, quickly pulling away just as his lips part.

The Hunter makes a charming little noise of protest, his reflexes too bloody  _good_  to avoid as he curls calloused fingers around August’s wrist, sitting upright to reel them close, the sheets that (barely) covered him long forgotten as they fall away.

” _Liar_. I bet I can make you stay,” he purrs, the fingertips of his free hand finding the hem of their robe, moving up,  _up_ , making them shudder as he reaches the crux of their thighs.

August’s breath hitches, their lips impossibly close, the Hunter’s gaze not wavering from their own for even a second. “You…”

He raises an eyebrow in question. “Me?”

August bucks against him as his hand continues to wander, and they find themselves lost in the feel of him, of fingertips that slide over their hipbone, higher, then lower, mapping their body with the barest of touches. “You,” they repeat, “are  _very_ distracting.”

He hums his agreement, lips finding the curve of August’s jaw, a smile pressed against warm skin. “I think you’ll find  _you_  distracted me first, Enforcer.”

Their lips meet, and August forgets their reports, forgets  _everything_  as they allow themselves to be pulled back down against the mattress.


	159. Loved (August x Hunter)

“I think I’m falling in love with you, and that terrifies me,” August says, their words quiet, nothing but a whisper as they speak them into the darkness.

The Hunter shifts beneath crumpled, still-warm sheets, his hand reaching out to find the spot beside him vacant, eyes searching, settling upon August’s form silhouetted against a backdrop of bright stars and an even brighter moon.

They sit curled up on the windowsill, head pressed against the glass, staring out over a quiet,  _peaceful_  Lunaris, nothing but a blanket wrapped around their bare waist, a long leg dangling free, toes skimming the floorboards.

August has always been used to waking alone, even after a night of passion, so waking beside a warm body that held their own so tightly was…  _different_.

They can’t quite bring themselves to catch his gaze, feeling his pretty eyes burning into them, unrelenting. “August, I—”

August raises their hand to silence him, long fingers curling into an elegant fist as they lower it back to their lap. “You don’t have to respond, I expect nothing.”

What August certainly doesn’t expect is for him to laugh, to remove himself from the safety of August’s bed, to join them upon the cold sill.

He rests a hand upon August’s knee, the other coming to rest upon their face, a thumb brushing over a sharp cheekbone, his touch so tender it makes August quake.

”I’ll try again, if you’ll allow it,  _General_?” He teases, waiting, lightening the sullen mood August had crafted.

August quirks a perfectly arched eyebrow, quite liking being called  _that_  when sitting naked with an equally as naked companion. “I’ll allow it,” they say, lips helplessly quirking into a sly smile, hopefully doing a good job of hiding the butterflies that threaten to tear from their stomach.

The Hunter has never been shy with affection, and August hangs on to his every word as he opens his mouth and says, “I think I’m falling in love with you too.”

There are a lot of things August could say in response, words hot on the tip of their tongue, but instead they greedily lean into his reverent touch, tilting their head as he moves in to press their lips together.

August surrenders for once in their life, feeling all of those complicated, unspoken words melt into nothingness, unneeded when being kissed like  _this_.

It’s a kiss that conveys every skittering thought that clouds their mind, easing all the tension from heavily burdened shoulders, a breath passing between them as gentle fingers push into raven hair.

_You are loved._


	160. Letting Go (Finn x Ezra)

Finn had many regrets in his too-long life, but as he walked into the tavern, he mused that this would probably end up being his biggest. 

The crowd was densely-packed, circled around two people twirling together elegantly in the centre of the room, the sight of a shock of white hair stark against dark curls enough to kick-start his long dead heart. 

It’s been years,  _too_  long, but also maybe not quite long enough, and Finn feels like he’s falling. 

He smiles as he pushes past people he doesn’t recognise, realising that a new life has been built, one that he certainly wouldn’t fit into, and the thought is almost a relief. 

The song that plays for their dance is dreamy, lilting, a song about love, about forever, and the light catches the gold band that curls around Ezra’s ring finger. 

It feels a little like the first time he saw him, all those years ago broken and bloodied, laying on the forest floor ready to bleed-out until there was nothing left, but the face of an angel appeared above him and gave him life. 

A purpose. 

He watches them dance, and he remembers midnight strolls through the market, nights when they would lay in the grass and watch the stars, kisses under the high-hanging moon, kisses that would always linger long after their lips had parted. 

The music slows to a stop, the happy couple smiling and embracing, and Finn closes his eyes, squeezes them tight, tight,  _tight_ , willing the tears that threaten to fall not to come. 

_This was your choice._

He looks up, and a pair of bright,  _wide_  emerald eyes catches his gaze across the crowd, Ezra’s perfect lips parted curiously, almost as if he’s about to call his name, and it feels like Finn never left, Ezra just asking him across the tavern what he wants to drink, expecting a roll of his eyes to follow as Finn says “ _Whiskey, of course_.” 

Instead they stare, and a smile creeps across Ezra’s face, something earnest, wide enough that his eyes crinkle in the way they used to when he’d laugh at one of Finn’s stupid jokes. 

He’s a little older, but still the most beautiful thing Finn has ever seen, and Finn suddenly finds himself smiling in return, unable to resist. 

A moment passes between them, and Finn drops his guard, feeling a flood of thoughts entering his mind, and then, in perfect clarity…

_I love you, Finnegan._

He huffs a laugh, because if he does anything else he’ll break, fall to his  _bloody_  knees, and yet he feels no regret, just…  _nostalgia_. 

He turns to leave, allowing himself one last look as Ezra turns away, his gaze now upon his beloved, and Finn realises that he’s gotten his wish, that Ezra is happy, that he’s whole and safe and _alive_. 

As the cold night air hits his face, Finn smiles. 


	161. Afterlife (Finn x Hunter)

“What do you think happens when you die?”

Finn quirks a dark eyebrow, turning his head and catching sight of the way the moonlight hits his face, shadows dancing, casting him in an almost ethereal glow as they lay in too-long grass beneath the stars.

“Well, I hope you’re talking about humans, because…” he gestures at himself, “Pretty dead right here.”

The Hunter squeezes Finn’s hand where their fingers are laced between them, a roll of his eyes and the beginnings of a smile as he turns onto his side, slinging an arm over Finn’s waist, chin resting upon his chest. “I meant what do you think will happen to  _me_  when I die?”

Finn stares into earnest eyes, the temptation to take a peek, to listen to what’s going on in that pretty head of his overwhelming. “I… nothing. Nothing happens,” he whispers, unable to lie, unable to play along.

The Hunter frowns, lips pursed in a playful pout as he reaches up to run a warm finger over the furrow in Finn’s brow, almost as if he wishes to brush it away. “Nothing. I thought as much.”

Finn wants to tell him how many loved ones he’s lost, how he used to sit beside graves and wait for a sign, a signal,  _anything_  to tell him they were still here somehow, and how likely it is that he would one day sit beside his grave, waiting, wishing.

Instead he pulls him closer, feeling the welcome warmth of his skin against his as their lips meet.

He pushes a hand beneath his shirt, smiling at the answering yelp of protest it pulls from him, the sound turning to laughter as he peppers his throat with persistent, reverent kisses, chasing away those macabre thoughts.

As they part, the Hunter stays close, tucked against Finn’s side, his eyes trained on the glittering constellations, but all Finn can do is watch  _him._


	162. Heartbeat (Finnzra x Hunter NSFW)

A familiar and satisfying red creeps into the Hunter’s cheeks as Ezra pushes them down against the mattress, his nose moving softly over their jaw, up, up over their cheek, temple. The Hunter laughs as Ezra whispers in their ear, his answering smile something that Finn knows would take his breath away if he could breathe. 

He sits back in his chair, chin resting on a crooked finger, and he doesn’t have to wonder what they’re thinking, a simple push affording him access to every deep,  _dark_  little thought that scatters through their minds.

_Don’t take your eyes off us._

Finn can’t help but lean forward as a muffled moan of pleasure falls from Ezra’s lips, arching into them, the Hunter chasing his lips as he moves to pull away just an inch, as if each of Ezra’s kisses ruins them, but the promise of another will put them back together again. 

_Finn. Finnegan._

Ezra’s thoughts are the loudest, a symphony of whispered words, words that Finn knows are meant to lure him in, to break his stubborn resolve, but he relents, gripping the arms of the chair hard enough to rip the leather as they move together as one upon his bed. 

_They feel so good. Don’t you want to feel? Feel us both…_

Finn bites his bottom lip, his fang scraping soft skin, the faintest taste of copper on his tongue, their movements becoming desperate. The Hunter’s head falls to the side, knuckles pressed to their mouth to stifle a groan, and Finn almost snaps, almost shouts for them not to hide, to let him _hear_. 

Instead Ezra curls long fingers around their wrist, pins both hands above their head and mutters a firm, “No.” 

_Just like you do to me. Shall I bruise them too?_

“ _Ezra_ …” the name is ripped from their throat, _aching_ , thick with want and lust and all the things Finn’s feeling, trying to fight. 

Finn senses it before they probably do, the rush, the tightening of muscles, the imminent release, and he can no long stand it. He palms himself through his trousers, back arching as he finally feels that friction he’s been so desperately craving. 

_Close, close, close._

He greedily touches himself as they fall apart, Ezra’s hips stuttering through his finish, their faces beautifully flushed, heartbeats violent,  _loud,_ and Finn’s mouth waters from the sound of blood pumping thick and harsh through their veins, dreaming of pressing his teeth to the column of each of their throats and sinking deep, drinking them dry.

Ezra’s emerald gaze snaps to him as he pulls away from them, and he smiles.  


	163. Beautiful (Finn x Ezra)

Ezra wakes to the chill of a cold hand upon his face, a curious thumb running over the curve of a freckled cheekbone.

He blinks the sleep from his eyes, smiling before his gaze has even settled upon his bedmate.

There may be no warmth in Finn’s touch, no sun that slips through gauzy curtains to kiss their skin, but every morning with him is bliss.

Ezra shifts against soft, rumpled sheets, turning to face him, the bright,  _rich_  gold of his eyes causing colour to bloom upon russet skin.

He smiles lazily, mind still fogged with the remnants of sleep. “Morning handsome.”

“Morning,” Finn says, a frown set upon his brow. “You looked sad, were you dreaming?”

Ezra shakes his head, hands sliding up his arms, the magic of his prosthetic responding in kind, light thrumming as his fingertips trace the intricate patterns. “I wasn’t.”

He pushes his fingers into Finn’s hair, tugging him close, pressing a soft kiss against his lips, and Finn hums, the sound rumbling in his chest, causing gooseflesh to prickle over Ezra’s skin.

Ezra laughs breathlessly as Finn settles his weight on top of him, pressing kiss after kiss to the line of his jaw, settling at his throat.

He looks up at him, brushing that lock of white hair from his forehead. “You’re so beautiful, Ezra,” he whispers, words full of love, of reverence.

Ezra smiles as Finn rests his head against his chest, ear pressed to the place where his heart beats, listening to the flutter as his arms wind around his waist.


	164. Agony (Finn & Alkar)

Alkar sinks lower in his seat, tankard clutched protectively in his hands as he lets out the quietest growl, teeth bared.

Finn spots the object of his disdain approaching;  _Piper_. He snorts a rather undignified laugh, kicking the Lycan under the table. “Play nice.”

”Ah if it isn’t my favourite creatures,” Piper shouts, slamming her glass on the table, rum sticky as it sloshes over the sides and over Finn’s fingers.

She pushes her way into the booth with little regard for Finn as she shoves him close to the wall. “Piper,” Finn nods, giving Alkar a warning glare over the rim of his glass. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

She crinkles her nose in what looks a lot like disgust as her gaze falls upon Alkar, dark blue eyes narrowing. “Aren’t you going to say hello,  _wolf_ , or are you too busy wallowing in your own agony to pay me any mind?”

She laughs at her own (non) joke, and Finn can’t help the smile that breaks out across his lips at the obnoxious sound coupled with Alkar’s obvious annoyance.

”Fuck you, Meriman,” he snarls, chucking back the remnants of his drink before storming out of the booth, his tail hitting the Hunter in the face as he passes.

Piper sighs dramatically, elbowing Finn in the ribs as she picks a gift of fur from ruby red lips. “Don’t think he likes me.”


	165. Stars (August x Hunter)

A

ugust walks the streets of Lunaris, the night sky free of clouds, as clear as it’s ever been, flickering stars forming curious shapes that catch their gaze.

They pause, the sound of footsteps behind them loud, obvious, and as they turn they find the Hunter, gazing at them expectantly. “You can go, you know? I don’t know what kind of rules your previous superior had, but I quite like my own company.”

His eyes sparkle as he shrugs, apparently happy with his current situation. “I’d quite like to continue to get to know yo— how you work, if that’s okay?”

August watches the careful movement of their lips, the way the corners curve into a sly little smile when he finishes his sentence, feeling a little… entranced, but quickly rectifies the situation with a roll of their eyes. “Very well, but I’m going to my office to do paperwork. Probably not the kind of excitement you’re looking for, no blood or dismemberments.”

His smile grows, cheeks kissed pink from the cold, and he walks a little faster to catch up with August as they continue on their path, side by side, past dimly lit buildings and fading lanterns.

“I admire you, you know,” he says after a brief period of blissful silence. “Your work ethic, your demeanour, you’re… well,  _everything_.”

August’s gaze shifts, fingers twitching in the warmth of their coat pocket. They don’t quite know how to respond, unused to such compliments from colleagues.

“I do hope you’re not teasing me, Hunter,” August sighs, a lump in their throat, and before they can construct their next sentence, a warm hand grasps their own, tugs them to a stop.

“August,” he whispers, and the look in his pretty eyes snatches the breath from August’s lungs.

Sincerity.

They stand facing each other, hand in hand, the Hunter’s fingers carefully laced with August’s own, and he squeezes lightly.

“It’s – just my duty, my job,” August mutters, finding it a little hard to concentrate when he’s looking at them like  _that_.

Like they’re special.

He reaches upwards, brushes a stray lock of hair behind August’s ear, the simple touch sending a shiver rolling down their spine, unfamiliar, but so,  _so_  welcome.

“I just thought you should know,” he states, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world, just words.

But it’s so,  _so_  much more.


	166. Bloodlust (Finnzra x Hunter)

“It’s nothing, really,” they insist, swatting Finn’s hands away, but the Vampire is insistent, lifting their tunic to get a better look at where the blade sank into flesh. 

They spot the widening of his pupils, the way the gold of his irises bleeds into the white of his sclera, the veins upon his face darkening almost to black. 

Ezra appears from the backroom, arms laden with jars of colourful liquids, bunches of herbs, bandages. “ _Finnegan_ ,” he warns, snapping Finn from his bloodlust, the vampire snatching his hand away as if their skin had scorched him. 

It was a foolish mistake, one they’ve never made before, but apparently when you have two people you love fighting by your side, your judgement is… impaired. 

Funny, that. 

They try to ignore the pain, already missing the cool press of Finn’s palm over the wound, but he’s… otherwise  _occupied_ , standing in the far corner, taking deep breaths that they know he doesn’t require, his hands curled into fists at his side. 

Ezra throws him a mildly concerned look, dark brows drawn together, and the witch quickly turns his attentions back to the Hunter that’s bleeding all over his rug. “Are you alright?” 

They nod, force a smile, but that frown does not leave Ezra’s face. 

He’s efficient at making a poultice, and they idly wonder how many times he’s had to stitch someone back together like this as deft fingers place the sodden fabric over the cut. He holds it there, warmth seeping from his palms, his fingertips glowing dully. “Almost done,” he smiles, and they realize that with Ezra this close, the pain is nothing but a memory. 

One of their hands is sticky with blood, and they turn their palm, showing Ezra who nods, understanding, retrieving a wet cloth from his haphazardly gathered pile of supplies. “Finnegan, how are you doing over there?” 

Finn appears in a flash, settling on his knees beside them, his eyes back to their usual warm, amber hue, a reassuring smile on his handsome face. “Sorry about that.” 

His hand moves to their thigh, his touch soothing,  _cold_  through the fabric of their trousers. They inch forward, pressing their forehead against his. “It’s okay, I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry, I let my guard down.”

Ezra sighs, reaching up to brush a fallen lock of hair from their eyes, his touch lingering at their temple. “You don’t need to worry about us, okay?” 

They open their mouth to protest, to tell him,  _them_ , that of course they worry, that the way their heart beats double-time whenever they’re both near makes it impossible to concentrate on  _breathing_ , let alone fighting, but Ezra kisses the words right from their mouth, closing the infinitesimal distance between them. 

His lips are as warm as his magic, soft,  _perfect_ , and they feel Finn’s fingers sliding into their hair, a perfect contrast of hot and cold, of light and dark. 

It’s maddening, when they’re all together like this, somehow too much but never enough, alwayswanting more, more,  _more._

Ezra pulls away, lacing their fingers together, an earnest smile on kiss-reddened lips, a smile that widens as he watches Finn run his nose along the sharp line of their jaw, and suddenly the stress of the day melts into nothingness. 


	167. Heartbeat (Finn & Alkar)

They sit on the roof of a house that isn’t theirs, passing a bottle of whiskey between them, Finn always disappointed that the alcohol doesn’t hit him in the way he wishes it would. 

The stars are bright tonight, the moon hung low, casting Lunaris in an ethereal glow. Alkar scoffs loudly, wiping his mouth with the back of a muddy hand. “It almost looks peaceful down there.” 

Finn tilts his head, takes in his friends tense form, the hard set of his shoulders, the deep scowl that crosses his brow. He doesn’t respond, knowing that all Alkar needs tonight is his silent company. 

He closes his eyes and concentrates, knowing that he cannot infiltrate Alkar’s thoughts, but if he tries hard enough he can hear the rush of blood in his veins, the comforting thrum of his heartbeat. 

He presses his hand to his own chest, to the place where his heart has been long dormant, lifeless. 

He tries to recall what it felt like fluttering against the cage of his ribs, the way it would quicken when he was scared, or the way it would stutter when he was caught-up in a moment with someone he loved. 

“What are you  _doing_?” Alkar grumbles, edging closer. “Finn, you look dumb.” 

Finn cracks open one golden eye, his lips quirking into a sad smile. “Just… reminiscing.” 

Alkar pauses, his scarlet gaze flashing in the darkness. He hands Finn the bottle, and Finn downs the dregs with one greedy swig, relishing the burn as the amber liquid trickles down his throat. 

“Reminiscing about what?” 

Finn shrugs, nonchalant, hiding his desperate longing. “Oh… nothing much.” 

He knows Alkar doesn’t quite buy it, knows that his friend is all too familiar with his wallowing, but he doesn’t push it, he simply rolls his eyes in that charming way he so often does, hopping to his feet to offer Finn his hand. 

“Come on, we need more whiskey.” 


	168. For The First Time (Finn x Ezra NSFW)

Finn feels Ezra’s unsteady breath rushing over his bare skin, reaching up to carefully tilt his chin this way and that, watching the tempting column of his throat tense, relax. “I remember exactly how you taste, how your blood feels coating my tongue,” he whispers, Ezra’s fingers twitching against cold skin.

He can hear his heart stutter,  _everything_  amplified, and he’s so hyper-aware of the thoughts that are screaming within Ezra’s mind that he wants to drop that barrier, that safety net he told himself was necessary, just to hear…

The faded, nearly-invisible marks that his fangs left the last (and only) time he fed on Ezra catch his eye in the dull, flickering candlelight, and he lets his fingers drop from his jaw, tracing down to rest upon his chest, right over his frantically beating heart. “Ezra…”

It’s like he’s in a trance, thralled, staring up at Finn with naked wonder and adoration. He seemingly shakes himself free from whatever has him caught, and he reaches up to unbutton his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, the perfect plane of his chest bared, russet skin littered with dark freckles. “ _Please_ , Finn. I… I want you.”

Finn sucks in a sharp breath, one he doesn’t even need as Ezra’s thoughts flood his brain, that barrier flickering and fading until there’s nothing but the sound of Ezra’s blood pumping generously through his veins, of his heart hammering double time in the cage of his ribs, and he’s screaming.

_Kiss me, bite me, take me, make me yours._

Finn presses a kiss to the juncture of Ezra’s shoulder, trailing up the column of his throat, his hands trailing over the curve of his shoulder, his spine. The contrast in their body temperatures is stark, and the rapid rise and fall of Ezra’s chest, the way he pants through parted lips tells Finn all he needs to know.

He hums quietly, and then he’s kissing him, soft and tentative at first, Ezra’s body pressing closer, hands rising to rest upon Finn’s shoulders gripping  _hard_  as Finn parts his lips licks deep into his mouth, growling softly as Ezra leans into it further, Finn’s teeth carefully scraping over his plump bottom lip.

“ _Please_ ,” Ezra mumbles into his mouth, unable to get much out clearly, too caught up in the taste of it, in the cool slide of Finn’s lips against his own. His fingers tremble as they dig harder into his shoulder, an ache settling hard and  _thick_  between his thighs. “I need…”

In this moment, the universe could contract down into a single point around; a white shock of hair falling across Ezra’s brow, kiss-reddened lips curving into a smile, a flicker of candlelight visible like a halo, a  _crown_  around him.

He reaches out, cups Ezra’s jaw, thumb brushing across his lips, rising up onto his knees and meeting Ezra halfway, winding his arms around his trim waist, pulling him in for a kiss, each soft brush of his tongue a promise made and kept.

They trade kisses with little thought of how much time is passing,  _warm_ , languid, building slowly with each slick tangle of their tongues.

Finn continues to be hyper-aware of each and every sound that crowds his mind, the wet, almost obscene noise of their kiss, underscored by Ezra’s panting breaths, then the squeak of the mattress as Finn carefully presses him down against soft pillows, but the rasp of their clothes as they instinctively begin moving against one another is by far his favorite.

It starts with subtle shifts and hitches, but his body aches for something more.

Something more. Something  _more_.

When Ezra pulls away with a gasp, long fingers clasped and joined at the base of Finn’s skull, those endless pools of emerald shining up at him, barely visible around blown-black and shifts up  _just right,_ he can feel the hot brand of his cock, hard, so  _hard_ —hard for him, and that dizzying thought sends him reeling.

He catches Ezra’s gaze, and something passes between them, something urgent.

_I’ve wanted this since the moment we met._

Finn growls low in his chest, that singular thought shouting loudly above all the others, and he feels it too, he’s wanted him too, exactly like this.

He reaches for Ezra’s trousers, tugging as Ezra gratefully lifts his hips, helping him in kind, not hesitating to reach for Finn’s the second his own are forgotten in a pile on the floor.

Ezra swallows thickly at the sight of him, eyes sweeping over him like a caress, his throat bobbing temptingly, and then he’s gone, turning and twisting to reach into the nightstand that sits at the side of his bed, pressing a cool jar into Finn’s palm.

Then he lays back, and he waits.

Finn wastes no time, the violent urgency that’s taking over almost scaring him.

Focus.  _Focus_.

He parts Ezra’s legs, a cold hand and an even colder one running down the solid length of his thighs, gooseflesh prickling in his wake, and the noise Ezra makes as he curls his iron fingers around him is almost inhuman, then a loud,  _desperate_  keen as Finn presses a slick digit inside, watching Ezra’s face intently, his eyes shut, dragging in a serrated breathed as everything inside him coils tighter and tighter.

Finn can hear it,  _all of it_ , the screaming chorus of yes, yes,  _yes_  rattling around in Ezra’s mind, his thoughts skittering wildly, not quite able to piece together any sentence that makes sense, not knowing exactly how he feels but knowing that whatever it is it’s good.

_God, it’s so good._

Finn readies him, spreads him open with deadly precision, wanting it to feel right, and when he finally,  _finally_  presses inside, fills him up, Ezra’s eyes snap open. “Finn…”

His name has never sounded better than when it’s rolling off of Ezra’s tongue like that, thick like honey, laced with want and… and… love.

_Love?_

Ezra plants his heels against the mattress and arches up to meet Finn’s careful thrusts, impatient hands clawing at the sheets, body and mind so vocal, so  _loud_  in their pleasure, all but losing himself beneath the hard pin of Finn’s insistent thrusts, his entire body vibrating like a struck chord. And then, as clear as day…

_Bite me._

_Bite. Me._

Finn pauses, the halt in his movements causing Ezra to whimper, eyes wide, needy as he looks up at Finn. “I mean it, do it,” he groans, fingers pushing into messy raven locks, urging Finn close, close, close. “Finnegan…”

Finn growls, a broken sound as he lunges in, the pinpoint tips of his fangs taunting the smooth surface of Ezra’s neck, scraping lightly, though he knows it’s still enough to hurt. Ezra pushes again,  _whimpers_  again, and Finn presses in until he’s punctured skin, flesh.

Blood rushes over his tongue, fills his mouth, trickles down his throat, and Ezra is addictive, like a drug he could never get enough of, sweet and copper and vanilla. He closes his mouth over the wound and drinks, a rough pang of bliss shooting through his body as he rolls his hips in a perfect, staccato rhythm.

“ _Ohmygod_ ,” Ezra breathes, his mind too clouded for Finn to hear anything, and the helpless little moan that follows is enough for Finn to pull back, to lave his tongue over those two perfect punctures, perfectly lined up with the ones he marked him with before.

Finn passes his tongue over the corner of his mouth, licking away the excess blood, and Ezra laughs softly, a little giddy, a little manic, reaching for Finn, reeling him close as he reaches between them and starts to touch himself, pressing his lips close to Finn’s ear, breath warm, but he doesn’t need to whisper his request, his thoughts are calm once again, loud…

 _Harder_.

Finn smirks, pulls away, ignoring the quiet sound of protest Ezra makes, swiftly shutting him up as he grabs him by the waist and turns him until he’s on his knees, his cold, iron fingers soothing over the curve of his spine, over the low dip as he arches closer to the mattress.

Finn grips his hips, catching and holding Ezra’s gaze as he looks over his shoulder, his cheeks kissed a startling,  _beautiful_  shade of dusky rose, and Finn thanks whatever god is responsible for him getting attacked that day, for sending him this witch, this  _angel_.

Because if he wasn’t already dead, Ezra would surely be the death of him.

The sound of skin on skin fills the room, and Finn loses himself in the sensation, the feel of fingertips digging in hard enough to bruise, the way Ezra responds in kind,  _loudly_ , to every rut of his hips, the tight, hot,  _perfect_  clench of him.

“I’m…  _I’m_ …”

_I’m going to come._

Finn growls, and Ezra falls apart, spilling onto the sheets below, back arched to the point of snapping, emerald eyes locked with Finn’s gold, and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He cries Finn’s name over and over and  _over,_ like a prayer, a fucking benediction, and Finn can do little to stem the overwhelming urge to just… let go.

And let go he does. He fills him up, holds him still,  _close_ , a ragged groan/growl hybrid falling from his lips, rumbling deep in his chest.

He wastes no time falling against Ezra, wrapping him up in his arms, holding him tight against his chest, watching his face, hearing his skittering thoughts slowly calming, his heart return to that steady thrum he’s become so used to.

“Ezra…”

Ezra looks up at him, and he smiles, lazy, sated,  _beautiful_ , and Finn smiles back.


	169. Snuggle (Finn x Ezra)

Ezra settles in beneath clean, cotton sheets, wiggling his toes against the softness of the mattress as he settles his head upon his downy pillow, letting out a sigh of utter contentment. **  
**

He’s had a long day, a _hard_  day, and he’s in desperate need of a blissful, peaceful nights sleep.

Just as his eyes begin to flutter closed, the unmistakable creak of the hatch has him smiling, shifting a little closer to the edge of the bed to make room for his visitor.

He hears the rustle of fabric, a muttered curse, and then he feels the mattress sink beneath Finn’s welcome weight. 

He braces himself, ready for the inevitable shock of cold arms around his waist, of icy toes against his calves, and he giggles upon contact, the sensation certainly not pleasant, but something he wouldn’t change for the world.

Finn buries his nose in dark brown curls, presses his lips to the nape of Ezra’s neck, humming contentedly. “I missed you.”

Ezra covers the arms that wrap around him, urges him to hold him tighter,  _closer_ , smiling wide and bright as Finn purrs, the noise sending a sparks (not literal…  _this time_ ) skittering over his skin.

“Will you hold me?”

Finn rests his chin upon Ezra’s shoulder, his lips finding the exposed column of his throat, pressing reverent kisses to heated skin. “Am I not too cold?”

Ezra huffs a laugh, jumping as Finn lightly nips at the edge of his jaw, the lightest scrape of fang. “I’ll be sure to kick you away if I think I might freeze.”

Finn nods, closing golden eyes as he finally relaxes against him. “Sweet dreams, my love.”

Ezra sighs, happiness helping him forget the day he’s had, Finn’s presence more stress relief than any spell or glass of wine could afford him. “Goodnight, Finnegan.”


	170. On Your Knees (August x M!Hunter NSFW)

He’s tested their patience today. Defied orders, attempted flirtation in the field in front of their peers, in front of August’s subordinates, and,  _annoyingly_ , August knows that he did it all entirely on purpose. 

The door to their office closes with a quiet click, the Hunters fingers still clutching the handle when August begins admonishing him. 

“We’ve had countless conversations about how I long for our working relationship to be, and yet you continue to try and push every single one of my buttons.  _Why_?” 

He has the gall to smile, a shit-eating smirk crossing his perfect lips, and August watches him watch them as he steps closer,  _closer_. “I like it when you get all angry,  _Enforcer_. It’s good to let loose every now and again.”

August scoffs, tipping their chin at him as he presses them back against the edge of their desk, their knuckles bleeding white as their grip tightens. “Let loose, hm? That’s what you want?”

He nods, biting his bottom lip; impossibly tempting. His eyes roam their face, both a gentle fondness and obvious lust sparkling in their depths. August can’t help the way their body reacts to him, not even if they wanted to, and the hard lines of muscle that shift against their palm as they splay it upon his chest sparks their interest. 

“Very well,” they say, attempting to sound indifferent. “Get on your knees.” 

The Hunter blanches, his eyes comically wide, brows climbing towards his hairline. “I…  _what_?”

August pushes him away with a hard shove, sending him stumbling back a few paces. “Sorry, did I stutter? Do I need to send you for some hearing tests, General?” 

With a click of their fingers and a flurry of subtle violet light, the door locks, and August tugs at the sash that adorns their torso, letting it fall to the floor. The Hunter still stands there staring, his mouth agape.

“I’ll say it again. Get. On. Your.  _Knees_.” 

This time, he obliges. 

He’s smiling, tempting, and when he hooks his fingers in the newly exposed waistline of August’s trousers, his hands are swatted away. “Hey…” 

They click their tongue, tutting. “Ah, ah.  _Beg_  for it.” 

August smiles when he exhales sharply, his eyes darkening, a delightful flush painting his cheeks. “ _Please_ , August. Let me…” 

“Try again.” 

The Hunter crinkles his nose, but then he chuckles, knowing exactly what August desires. “Please,  _General_.”

He runs a hand over the curve of one of August’s boots, fingertips nimble as they trail the leather, the criss-cross of the laces laces, then back up. “Good boy,” they purr, their breath hitching when he parts the front of their trousers and reaches inside.

His mouth is warm, wet,  _perfect_ , and when he hums around them August can almost feel it bone-deep, thrumming through them. They tangle their fingers in his hair, a boot-clad leg slung over one of his broad shoulders as he takes them deep, down to the root.

They look down at him, and when his eyes meet theirs it tears a ragged breath from their lungs. He’s in love with them, and them with him, and even in a moment like this it seeps from his every pore like a supernova; bright,  _blinding_. 

He groans when they tighten their grip on his hair,  _again_  when they roll their hips in time with his movements. A weightlessness settles over them, something swirling and insistent in the pit of their stomach, and it takes all of their control to yank back the buzz of electricity, of  _magic_ that threatens to come ripping out of them as their orgasm takes hold.

The Hunter is nothing if not thorough when he swallows around them, watching the way their chin touches their partially exposed chest, their hair falling from the neat queue of their ponytail as their fingers go numb and fall away from his head.

He pulls away with a delicious grin crossing his swollen lips as he sucks in a sharp breath, filling his lungs and looking  _entirely_  too pleased with himself as he gazes up at them. “Was that satisfactory, Enforcer Willenheim?”

August quirks a perfect brow, appraising him with a slow drag of bright blue eyes. They curl a long finger underneath his chin, tilting his head this way and that. “I’ll require your report on tonight’s mission by sunrise, Hunter.”

“ _August_ …” 

They take stock of the way his face falls, unable to maintain their facade. Then, with a quiet laugh, they lean in, brushing his lips with their own. “I love you, you horribly infuriating man.”


	171. Hot & Bothered (Finn x Ezra NSFW)

There’s always a thrumming awareness between them. An ache that never seems to dissipate even when they’re doing the most mundane of tasks. **  
**

Sometimes it’s enough to make the hairs upon Finn’s arms stand up; a simple glance from emerald eyes threatening to send him to his knees, and his stomach pools with an unexpected heat, something phantom, but that feels so undeniably  _real_.

Tonight Ezra is flustered, and Finn dutifully does what he can to cheer him up. He takes one of his hands, squeezing gently before bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to warm knuckles. Ezra watches him intently, his anger fading, morphing into a curious fondness. “Distract me.”

“I intend to, but you’re so, incredibly _sexy_  when you’re all hot and bothered like this,” Finn purrs, offering him a lopsided grin that exposes fang, that makes Ezra’s heart give an unsteady  _thump_ behind his ribs.

Finn peels away Ezra’s tunic, exposing perfect russet skin and shoulders littered with a sweeping constellation of freckles. Ezra mirrors the action, and Finn’s shirt falls upon his forest green sheets.

_The way Ezra looks at him…_

It’s like being punched in the chest, centuries of emotions unspooling, fluttering in a way that could fool Finn into thinking his heart had started beating again.

Colour stains Ezra’s cheeks and spills down his chest as they edge closer,  _closer_. “Come here,” Finn says, his voice thick and tangled with want, and Ezra meets him halfway.

They bring their mouths together, a moan trapped in Ezra’s throat as Finn pushes him back against downy pillows. Everything else fades into nothingness, and all that remains is the way that they move together. 

It’s a learned thing; Finn knowing all the ways to unmake him, and Ezra understanding all the ways to let him. Soft,  _warm_  fingers spread wide over bare muscle as Finn shifts his hips in a steady, almost teasing glide, and the ache Ezra feels is bone-deep, almost elemental in nature.

Sharp teeth graze the line of his throat, and Ezra’s body throws sparks ( _almost_  literally) when those two sharp points penetrate his flesh. The pain is fleeting, something familiar now, and Ezra smiles through it like an addict being granted a hit as he sinks his fingers into messy raven hair.

When Finn is done, Ezra turns to eagerly catches his tongue between his teeth, sucking away the crimson that coats it as he rides out the unsteady buck of his hips. With that, gone is the tenderness, and all that remains is naked urgency; Finn gathering Ezra in his arms and hauling him up, around into his lap. 

The desperate kiss is broken by their shared laughter, a noise that quickly filters into a groan when Finn curls long, iron fingers around the length of him. A cold thumb brushes over his flushed crown, and Ezra shudders, his navel dipping, his chin falling to his chest as his fingers dig into the solid breadth of Finn’s shoulders for leverage.

The scalding intensity with which Finn watches him is enough to shatter his already wavering resolve, and Ezra climaxes with the Vampires name rolling off his tongue like a broken, forbidden prayer.

Finn reaches up to tangle his fingers in those perfect curls, reeling him in gently as he rests their foreheads together. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the Witches thundering pulse, basking in the way it quickens against his tongue.

He tips his head and groans through his release, stars bursting behind black eyes rimmed with vivid gold, and Ezra laughs against his cool skin, giddy in his comedown. He nuzzles against Finn’s throat, their arms winding around one another in a tight,  _unbreakable_  hold.

Finn drags Ezra back against the mattress, refusing to let him go as he peppers his dark skin with kisses, the air around them charged, _thick_  like an inescapable miasma.

“I’ve forgotten why I was cross,” Ezra whispers, kissing the pointed tip of Finn’s ear.

Finn soothes his hands over Ezra’s heated skin, chuckling, running his nose along the edge of his jaw. “Then my job here is done.”


	172. Tardy (August x M!Hunter NSFW)

August runs their fingers over the ever-growing pile of paperwork that sits upon Dmitry’s desk, appraising his reports with a curious eye.

Steam seeps from underneath the bathroom door, and they think about him standing underneath the spray of hot water, resisting the urge to barge in and ignore the fact they have work to do.

“We’re going to be late.”

Dmitry offers them a laugh, a delicious,  _raspy_  thing that makes their cheeks burn hot even without the luxury of being able to see his inevitably handsome smirk.

“You’re an hour early, August. If you want speed, why don’t you come join me?”

They huff, tucking a fallen curl behind their ear as they sit upon the end of his bed, grimacing at the distinct lack of comfort. “I can assure you that wouldn’t  _speed you up_.”

Another laugh, and this time August smiles with him. The door creaks as it opens, and Dmitry appears before them in only a towel slung indecently around his waist.

Their eyes rove his form, tracing the scar that cuts through his perfect torso, fingers twitching against cheap sheets as they remember how it feels beneath their lips.

They swallow thickly as he towels his long hair, his mismatched eyes not leaving them for a second. “Do get dressed. Such cheap distractions will not work on me.”

Realizing their horrible mistake and how much Dmitry  _adores_  a challenge, they sigh as he steps closer with intent, taking their chin between forefinger and thumb. “ _Cheap_? Low blow, my love.”

Their mouth twists to the side in a poorly stifled smirk, their body already singing for him, set alight by even the most simple of touches. “Get  _dressed_.”

He hovers over them as if he’s stalking prey, the self-satisfied smile that crosses his lips both infuriating and  _thrilling_. “You’re so sexy when you’re hot and bothered.”

Gold and green flash bright in the early morning sunshine, and August doesn’t protest when Dmitry splays a broad palm against their chest, pushing back until they’re flush against the mattress.

The fastenings of their tunic are pliant for him, the soft fabric falling open, warmth seeping bone-deep as he drags calloused fingertips down their partially exposed chest. “Is that why you’re such a deplorable pain in the arse all the time?”

The traitorous stutter in their voice tells Dmitry all he needs to know, and August winds long legs around his waist, fingers tangled in blonde hair as his lips find their own. They should be frustrated with how easily they submit to him, rarely putting up much of a fight once he has  _that_ look on his face, but the way he makes them feel erases each and every sliver of potential annoyance.

Dmitry looks so good on his knees, his mouth warm and deliciously  _wet_ as he drags his talented tongue over the length of them, gliding from base to tip in a single, perfect and  _slick_  swipe.

His name rolls off their tongue like it’s the only word they ever bothered to learn, and he watches them through dark lashes that flutter each and every time he hollows his cheeks. He steadies the desperate stutter of their hips with a firm press of his hand, and August whimpers when they see his towel fall away.

Their eyes follow the movement as his hand disappear, pushing down and out of sight. His shoulders tense for a moment before relaxing into a familiar, perfect rhythm as he begins to stroke himself as he swallows them down. 

August attempts to thrust upwards despite the weight upon their hips, and when they speak their voice is so wrecked they barely recognize it as their own. 

“ _Dmi_ …”

Dmitry moans around them, the vibration of thrumming  _through_  them, heat coiling like a snake in the pits of their stomach. The way he looks at them coupled with the way he speeds up the unsteady jerk of his hand has August hurtling over the edge with a broken cry; every piece of them shattering, bursting hot, hot  _hot_  as they spill inside his perfect mouth.

He hums, greedily swallowing every last drop, releasing them with a slick, filthy  _pop_. He exhales, lips swollen as he curls in on himself, his navel dipping as he looks at August with a dazed expression, his eyes dark as if August is the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

Which…  _strange_ , because August is pretty sure that’s Dmitry, right now, just like this as he comes hard over knuckles that bleed white.

August surges forward to clumsily capture his lips in a kiss, soothing him through his aftershocks and grinning against his mouth when Dmitry growls low and deep. They break apart, resting forehead to forehead, and with a sinful,  _smug_ smile, Dmitry whispers, “Enforcer, you’re terribly  _tardy_  as of late. Whatever will your superiors say?”

August scoffs, a comeback ready on the tip of their tongue, but instead they nuzzle closer, needing to be near him in some intristic way. Their fingers begin to move in his hair, pulling it into his trademark tight braid, Dmitry’s eyes fluttering closed at the familiarity of the gesture. “Shut  _up_ , Voronin.”


	173. Clothes Off (Finn x Ezra NSFW)

Having a Vampire lurking in your shop full of suspicious Lunarian’s should  _technically_  be bad for business, but Finnegan Kazimir ensures it’s booming.

With a toothy grin and a flash of his pretty golden eyes, Finn has most of the residents of Lunaris eating out of his iron palm.

Today the swooning and the flutter of the customers eyelashes is particularly impressive as Finn walks around the shop with a purring Coco cradled in his big arms, and Ezra glares at him over a pile of enchanted crystals.

Come closing time Ezra ushers the final customers out of the door with a friendly smile, turning to Finn with narrowed eyes and a sly grin. “You’re becoming something of a tourist attraction, you know?”

Finn drags his fingers through Coco’s white fur as she flicks his chin with her tail, cooing at her rather than listening to the tired Witch before him.

_Superhuman senses my arse._

“Finnegan.”

“Yes, my love?”

Ezra quirks a dark brow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Put the cat down and come help me tidy up, won’t you?”

Finn kisses the top of Coco’s head and sets her upon the countertop, pushing his luck as he mumbles a playful, “ _Yes_ , Master.”

The way Ezra’s lips twist at the corner tells Finn his apparent annoyance is faux, and the Vampire dutifully takes the duster from his partners clutches and gets to work.

Finn watches Ezra with a curious gaze as he tidies, and, as always, he gets bored before they’re finished; distracted by the sway of Ezra’s hips, even more so by the way his delicate fingers brush over the spines of old tomes as he pushes them back into place.

He sidles up to Ezra with a careful grace, hands bracketing his waist, a cold nose nuzzling at the line of his jaw. “You know, those clothes would look good on the floor.”

Ezra laughs, tilting his head as Finn’s breath ghosts over his skin, gooseflesh blossoming. “Is that so?”

Finn doesn’t respond with words, instead humming quietly, winding his arms around Ezra’s waist and pushing a hand underneath his tunic. “I’m a man of my word, I mean what I say.”

“But I  _thought_  we were tidying?” Ezra says, words stifled by a gasp, Finn’s cold hand finding bare skin as he pries his shirt open.

Finn feigns contemplation, shrugging his question off as he falls to his knees, tugging at Ezra to join him. With a roll of his eyes, Ezra obliges, kneeling in front of Finn and letting him pry open the front of his trousers.

They soon find themselves remembering just how soft the rug is, the woven fabric gentle against Ezra’s shoulders and spine as Finn settles between perfectly parted legs.

“Did you lock the door?” Ezra stutters, chest heaving as Finn’s clever mouth occupies itself with something other than snarky comments.

“ _That’s_  what you’re thinking about right now?”

 

Ezra twists his fingers in Finn’s dark hair,  _pushing_  down, urging him to continue his ministrations. “Less talking,” he grins, regretting breaking the Vampires rhythm.

His toes curl, his back arching into a perfect bow, and even when Mrs Lieberman from number seventy five bursts in looking for a late night sprig of Skeletal Touch-Me-Not, all Ezra can do is laugh himself through his stifled bliss.


	174. Cooling (Finn x F!Hunter)

It’s summer in Lunaris, and the Hunter seeks refuge from the heat in the arms of her lover; the perfect cooling aid.

She lays upon his chest, head tucked under his chin, and the bliss of bare skin on skin is like no other.

It takes every ounce of willpower for him to resist reaching to gently card his fingers through her hair. Instead he traces over the dip and curve of her spine, smiling to himself when she shudders in her sleep.

Finn counts her every breath, the lazy way her chest rises and falls where it’s pressed against his own, and it’s almost as if his heart is beating once again; an almost-familiar vibration straight through his core.

She’s hardly heavy on top of him, a delicate but  _fierce_  thing, but he relishes the weight of her anyway; something solid to ground him.

Eventually she stirs, her lashes fluttering open, her fingers twitching where they rest upon his pillow. “Mm. You feel amazing,” she says, her voice thick with sleep, a  _dreamy_ rasp.

She hums,  _content_  when he rests a broad hand upon the base of her spine. Their lips brush when she tips her chin to seek out warm gold in the dull candlelight.

“Not as good as you,” Finn purrs, dragging his thumb across her full bottom lip, and he smiles when she kisses it, then him.


	175. Violet Eyes (August x F!Hunter)

August tuts quietly, pressing the pads of delicate fingertips over the blossoming bruise that spreads like macabre petals underneath her eye.

“ _I’m_  the one that’s supposed to have purple beneath their eyes, not you.”

She smiles, unphased by her injury. “That Youngling had a hell of a right-hook.”

A single perfectly arched brow climbs towards their hairline, and August looks thoroughly unimpressed. Pale violet light dances between their fingers, their ocean eyes shimmering to match, and her too-warm skin is cooled by their touch.

She holds their wrist, humming as the sting dissipates, nothing but a gentle throb left as the swelling calms. “Thank you.”

They brush her hair from her eyes, behind her ear. “I’d ask that you pay Ezra a visit to get it looked at properly, but I know you’re too stubborn.”

The Hunter shrugs, taking August’s chin between forefinger and thumb. “You know me well.” She kisses them. Quick, fleeting. “Besides, bruises and scars show all the other monsters that I survived the last, right?”

She jumps off their desk in a flash, laughing as she dashes for the door, avoiding the torrent of curses that August fondly mutters under their breath.


	176. Dig (Finn)

He crouches, getting closer to the ground, but not close enough to dirty his knees.

The air feels heavy to him tonight, something thick and oppressing; a miasma that he’s sure would near suffocate him if his lungs functioned properly.

“This is the one,” Levi says, pacing a careful path behind him, humming quietly, keeping his distance, scoffing when Finn doesn’t respond.

Finn inhales, exhales, daring to spare the tombstone that sits in front of him a cautious glance.

It’s his greatest enemy; a trauma long ingrained in him, one that makes him believe his scarlet eyes will look and find a name,  _his_  name, etched into the stone.

 _Gabriel_.

He knows that he’s miles away, safe in his grave in another city, in the place they once called their home, but Finn still  _fears_.

He pushes his fingers into the freshly disturbed dirt, letting it get under his nails, pushing hard enough that he almost remembers how he felt in this moment all those centuries ago.

Scared, alone, confused.

 _Hungry_.

“Finnegan, we don’t have all night.”

He doesn’t bother to spare his sire a glance, instead taking a firm hold of the hand that bursts forth from the ground below him, fingers lacing, and he  _tugs_.


	177. Ozone (August x M!Hunter)

Something happens to August during a storm. 

The air changes; an electricity humming under their skin, crackling in their veins. It makes the Hunter’s hair stand on end if he gets too close, and he’s always  _too close_.

Dark hair that fades into silver cascades over shoulder and chest, silky rivulets soft as he reaches out to twirl a strand around his finger. August watches with violet eyes, the colour shifting and changing each time the clouds meet and thunder claps. 

The Hunter leans in to brush their mouths together, the taste of ozone on his tongue, threads of power carefully unspooling between them like vines, swirling over August’s skin wherever his fingers find them. 

“Beautiful,” he whispers, still in awe no matter how many times he sees it, no matter how many times he  _causes_  their magic to display itself in such a manner.

August makes a low noise, something desperate trapped in the back of their throat as they reach for him, and every single one of his nerve endings is set alight when their fingers curl at the nape of his neck. 

The gauzy curtains do little to keep the lightning out; a violent flash illuminating the room, but it doesn’t even come  _close_  to outshining August. 


	178. Trailing (August x F!Hunter)

Their heart stutters when she smiles, and August swallows to dislodge the lump in their throat when the Hunter reaches for their hand.

She somehow always seems so oblivious to their obvious pining, August not yet used to the fact that she’s, well…  _theirs_. Not used to the ease of their interactions, nor the way they fit as if specially crafted for one another.

They squeeze their fingers around her loose grip, and the Hunter drapes herself over their bare chest. Suddenly she’s boneless, her eyes shut, skin still wet from the bath they’ve just shared.

Her scent mollifies August, their favourite lavender soap clinging to her skin in a way it never does to theirs, and she smells like a dying summer; sweet, fresh,  _warm_.

She drags the tip of her nose along their collarbone, humming, flattening against them even more as if she intends to sink under their skin. August shifts with a smile, winding their arms around her waist, their chin resting atop her head, and her fingertips trace the points of their shoulder blades.

“I’m tired,” she whispers, words muffled against damp skin.

August lazily exhales, kissing her temple. “And yet we’ve barely been awake an hour. What happened to that infamous Hunter stamina you so often love to boast about?”

A grunt, and they laugh at her defiance. “But you did such a wonderful job of wearing me out.”

The noise she makes when they prod her in the ribs is delightful, and after a brief moment of struggling, the pair become a sleepy heap of warm limbs and damp hair.

After a stretch of comfortable silence, she tips her chin to press a kiss to their jaw. Then, a whispered, almost painfully earnest, “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Her unprovoked words twist their nerves and render them useless. They ponder their newfound relationship, deciding that regular sex and mumbled conversations in the dark could never compare to being so plainly,  _irrevocably_  loved.

August trembles, holding her closer, burying their face in the crook of her neck. “I adore you,” they whisper, confounded by her naked affection for them, no matter how many times she shows it.


	179. Muse (Finn x Ezra)

“Stay  _still_.”

“I didn’t move!”

Finn looks at him from around the canvas, a singular dark brow raised, paintbrush held between his teeth. Ezra rolls his eyes,  _actually_  moving this time, his arm giving out where he’d been supporting his head with his hand.

“My arm has gone dead. It’s  _tingly_.”

With a forced sigh, Finn sets his tools down, his hands covered in an abundance of colourful shades, sticky to the touch where he’d been careless when mixing his colours.

He smiles to himself, an idea brewing, and as Ezra yawns and stretches upon his mattress, quite clearly contemplating curling up for a nap, Finn strikes.

Ezra squeals in delight as the Vampire lands on top of him, not bothering to even attempt to fight him off as he smudges paint across the tip of his nose. Finn grins down at him, far too satisfied with himself, and all the Witch can do is sigh.

“ _Really_ , Finnegan? I hope you’re going t–”

Finn drags his hand down Ezra’s bare torso, his dark skin now covered in a swirling mixture of green, yellow, blue.

Finn tilts his head, throwing him a cocky grin. “I’m sorry, what do you  _hope_  I’m going to do?”

Ezra opens his mouth, then closes it, thinking better of the curse that almost rolls off his tongue. With a narrowed gaze, he glances down at his chest, assessing the damage. Then, with a quick shove, he flips them over, bracketing Finn’s hips with his thighs.

He leans in, rubbing their noses together as Finn squirms beneath him, both of them laughing, and Finn eventually goes lax when Ezra steals a kiss.

The paint is sticky between them, pretty upon Finn’s pale skin, but as his still-messy hands begin to roam the plane of Ezra’s back in a gentle caress, the Witch can’t find it in him to care.

“Insufferable  _wretch_ ,” Ezra coos, the words muffled against Finn’s lips.

Finn responds with a lazy hum, something content as Ezra cards his fingers through raven hair. “You usually love me making a mess of you.”

He snorts when Ezra smacks him hard in the chest, his faux outrage positively adorable as he gazes up into those pretty eyes; eyes that sparkle with fondness, and maybe a little mischief.

He pushes his big hands up over Ezra’s thighs, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his loose trousers.

“We could do with a bath. What do you say?”

Ezra shakes his head, curling his fingers around Finn’s wrists and prying his hands from his clothing, pinning them above his head instead.

The little purr of delight that rumbles in the Vampire’s chest has his pulse spiking, and he leans in to press a kiss to the hollow of his throat.

“Like you said; I love it when you make a mess of me,” he whispers, smiling against cool skin. “But… I think you can do better than  _this_.”


	180. Flutter (Finn x Ezra NSFW)

The gentle, golden glow of the singular candle is the only light available, and Ezra’s face has taken on an otherworldly quality, shadows painting his features as he tips his head back with a sharp inhale. **  
**

Ezra could inspire anyone, or _thing_ , long after their extinction with the way he reacts, and it’s no wonder Finn manages to forget any of his dark thoughts when they’re entwined so intimately.

Finn rocks against him slowly, holding him so close to his chest that the frantic hammer of his heart makes Finn think his has awoken. 

If it was going to,  _this_  would be the thing that would coax it.

“Look at me,” Finn whispers, broad palms splayed between shifting shoulder blades. He presses his lips to the hollow of Ezra’s throat when he doesn’t respond, the Witch somewhere far away, eyes closed  _tight_ , lashes long atop flushed cheeks, his freckles like stardust.

With a punctuated roll of his hips, Finn lulls the Witch from his pleasure-induced daze, and with a quiet whimper he snaps back to reality. Soft fingertips dig into Finn’s broad shoulders, and Ezra taunts him by barely brushing his lips with his own, only to pull away with a smile when Finn leans in. “ _Close_.”

With a reverent purr, Finn holds him tighter, if _tighter_  is even possible. Legs squeeze around his waist, and they both rest their heads against the downy pillows, eye contact fixed and held; fathomless black instead of green and gold, but somehow still so  _bright_.

He runs his nose over the two marks that are a permanent fixture upon Ezra’s throat,  _his_  marks, there since the first night they met; a promise kept.

Ezra curls inward, the shock of his completion dissolving his breathing, and he reaches for the bedding beside his head, fingers curling in dark sheets. Finn’s name falls from his lips like a whispered prayer; something secret, and there’s that coil in his stomach, a heat that unfurls and makes him feel the warmest he has in centuries. 

“ _Finn_.”

It’s a plea that drifts into an exhale, trembling hands reaching upward, fingers twisting in the soft obsidian hair that curls at the nape of his neck. Finn’s naked shoulders roll back as he languidly rocks his hips upward, knowing this moment well. White noise builds and hums around them, and suddenly, he remembers just how _in love_  he is.

Suddenly, Ezra is  _all_  there is.

“I love you so much.”

He reaches with an iron hand and laces their fingers together, squeezing  _hard_ , feeling every tender press as the etchings in his lovingly crafted limb come to life, casting them both in that familiar  _bright_ , white light.

Finn accepts defeat, surrendering that final moment of lapsing control within his body as he curls his toes against the sheets, and he gladly lets desire win. Ezra kisses him both to distract his own harsh breathing, but also to chase any final threads of bliss, and he smiles when Finn mutters a quiet, “ _I love you too_ ,” against his lips.

They remain tangled until Ezra falls asleep, any attempt to move met with an unconscious, grumbled protest. Finn traces lazy circles upon his back, following the pattern of freckles that he committed to memory long ago.

He watches his lashes flutter, catches the most subtle twitch of his lips, drowning in his quiet, sleepy breaths. Finn has always wanted nothing more than to be able to dream about Ezra, but simply watching him will have to do.  


	181. Lover, Be Good To Me (August x M!Hunter)

Watching August brush their hair is cathartic for him, a way to unwind after a long, hard day. He’s comfortable here now; in this town, in August’s home, in their bed, and they smile as they set down their hairbrush, feeling his eyes upon them.  

He takes his time to study their features in their reflection in the mirror; the perfectly imperfect line of their nose, the perpetually tired eyes that seem brighter whenever he’s around, somehow.

All of it had wrung him out since the very moment they met, all of August, and he tries not to get too distracted with admiring them, craving contact instead. “Come to bed.”

August turns to face him, smug that they caught him staring, the faintest hint of pink kissing the apples of their cheeks. “Say please.”

The Hunter tilts his head at them, and they come willingly, rearranging their robe as they climb into his lap; a practiced routine. He flicks his gaze up, reaching to run his index finger down their throat, brushing upward with his knuckles.

He cradles their cheek, basking in the gentle sigh that follows. “You’re perfect. Do you know that?”

August’s breath catches, an obvious stutter to it, and, as the Hunter moves in for a kiss, they shift out of reach with a barely disguised smirk. “Perfect, hm? Such bold statements all the time.”

Long fingers push into his hair, fingers that hold an impossible power, and August forgets their composure and kisses him hungrily. He rests his hands upon their thighs, fingers twitching against warm skin as their lips kiss a down his jaw, his throat.

They capture the skin under his ear between their teeth, biting gently, though it’s enough to create a bruise that will stain his skin like spilled wine. He hisses, turning his head to find them staring at him in a way that sends his heart plummeting to its knees.

He’s too mortal to even try to encapsulate how August makes him feel, but when they look at him like that he thinks he might find the words.

Any traces of mischief are erased from their features, turning to ash when he once again cradles their face. They cover his hand with their own, pressing a kiss to his palm, and the vulnerability with which they utter their next words makes his heart ache. “Lover, be good to me.”

Quiet, almost a whisper, and he can only think of one thing to say in response.

“I love you.”


	182. Misbehave (Alkar x F!Hunter)

The wind whips through their hair, leaves crunching underfoot, and the only noise that guides them is Alkar’s wicked laughter.

He thinks he has them beat, but they can hear his heartbeat even at such a distance,  _feel_  his unmatchable warmth.

Then, the flicker of a tail catches their eye, and he sucks in a sharp breath when they pin his wrists to the tree he hides behind.

“Got you.”

He smirks in that cocky way he’s perfected, going lax against them as they press close. The scar that cuts through his pretty face twitches, and a low,  _delicious_  growl rumbles somewhere deep in his chest. “Oh no. How  _terrible_.”

They kiss him, then. Kiss him hard enough to wipe the smile off his face, their fingers tightening to hold him in place. His tail wraps around their leg,  _squeezing_ , telling them not to stop.

_Never stop._

They tear away with a gasp, resting their forehead against his, the little whimper that falls from kiss swollen lips making them smile as he chases their mouth.

They plant a palm against his chest, tutting. “I won. You do as I say, that’s the deal.”

He scoffs, pouting. “When do I  _ever_  do what you say.”

They consider that statement, huffing a quiet laugh before running their nose along his jaw, inhaling that fresh, petrichor scent. He shudders, twisting in their grip, putty in their hands.

It’s a simple fact that he’d do anything for them, one that doesn’t need to be proven with such tactics, but they just love watching him squirm.

“Sorry, what was that?”

Tawny cheeks flushed, a short fang digging into his bottom lip, and he’s  _perfect_. “I’d never fall for someone who couldn’t misbehave.”

The Hunter sighs, offering him a sly smile. “Lucky you fell for me, then.”


	183. Reunion (Finn x Ezra)

“It’s late. I should leave you to get some rest,“ Finn says, trying to make casual conversation, the Hunter’s words still hanging heavy between them.   
  
As always, he’s being patient,  _stubborn_ , but also letting Ezra decide where to take this; giving him the chance to say no.

"Is that really all you have to say after that? After _all_  of that?”   
  
Finn opens his mouth, closes it, then…   
  
"No. I have many things to say.  _So many_ , Ezra.”  
  
Ezra stares him down. Then, there’s a beat, a loaded moment, and suddenly Finn is closing the gap between them in two long strides. He catches Ezra by his elbow, pausing before guiding him closer, and the Witch goes willingly.  
  
Finn tilts his head as if he means to kiss him, but he lingers, close but not close enough. He’s waiting for permission, the way Ezra’s fingers curl in the front of his coat and the way his green eyes darken not  _quite_  confirmation enough.   
  
"I  _missed_  you,” Ezra whispers, a quiver to his words, like he can’t quite fathom how they ever even got here. He swallows thickly, a lump in his throat as Finn looks at him in  _that_  way; the way that he hasn’t in what feels like forever.   
  
“You did?” Finn says, playful for the sake of hiding his fear, but he quickly caves beneath the weight of his own feeble teasing.   
  
He kisses Ezra, finally, _finally_ falling into a blissful fervor when he sinks into it, melting against him like he always used to.  
  
“I love you,” Finn whispers against his mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m so  _sorry_.”  
  
“Don’t leave me again,“ Ezra says, trying for another kiss. "I love you.”  
  
Then, a scorching pause, and Finn carefully inspects Ezra’s features. He stares, scoffing, because  _as if_  he could ever forget every freckle that sweeps across the bridge of his nose and pink cheeks, or the perfect curve of his lips, or the  _everything_  about him.

Ezra’s gentle expression doesn’t falter under his scrutiny, but he does smile when Finn moves back in for the kill; capturing his mouth with his own.  
  
Finn groans his appreciation as Ezra rushes his palms down Finn’s chest, unhooking the fastenings of his coat with a practiced ease. With a gentle growl-come-purr, Finn hooks his hands beneath his thighs and  _lifts_ , catching Ezra’s laugh against his tongue.

They’ve done this before; a hundred times,  _more_.  
  
And suddenly it’s like they were never apart, but somehow it still manages to feel like the very first time, every time.


	184. Suffer Hell (August x M!Hunter)

There are many things that August adores about their Hunter, too many to count, too many things that catch them off-guard. 

He stares at them as they quietly read by the fire, the flames dying in the hearth as bedtime draws near. He has a habit of capturing their chin whenever their lips are turned downward in a passive frown, kissing them until they’re breathless, and tonight is no exception. 

August laughs against his lips, their place in their book forgotten as it falls numbly from their fingers, his big body pressing close. “Lovesick fool,” they mutter, biting their kiss-swollen bottom lip as he pulls away. “Now I’ll never know what the sailor’s going to do to the knight.” 

His furrowed brow makes them want to laugh, but they stifle it, favoring a pout instead. He reaches out to brush a fallen strand of silvering hair behind their ear, his gaze fond, eyes shining. “How about  _I_ tell  _you_  what  _I’ll_  do to you, instead?” 

Their heart stutters, a quick protest in the safety of their ribs. They drag their hand down his chest, over soft, thin fabric, feeling his warmth. “Tell me,” they say, their voice hoarse. “I’d suffer hell if you would.” 

He presses a kiss to the soft skin at the nape of their neck, a tender thing, something that makes their skin tingle, their body set alight.

When he pulls back and meets their sky-blue gaze, their breath catches in their throat. Having someone look at them like _that_  is the only proclamation they’ll ever need, ever want, and they swiftly decide he can do anything he bloody pleases. 


	185. Highest By Your Warmth (Finn x Ezra)

They cradle red wine and whiskey in their respective palms, Finn’s focus on Ezra and  _only_  Ezra as the Witch watches townsfolk filter into the Wolf, ready to drown whatever sorrows they’ve collected throughout the day. **  
**

The corner in which they sit is quiet, tucked away from prying eyes. Ezra doesn’t see the lingering glances they get, only sees the good in people, but Finn can feel their glares, their uncertainty.

He edges a little closer, slinging a protective arm around Ezra’s shoulder. His warmth sinks bone deep, and Finn smiles to himself as he brings his glass to his lips, Ezra unconsciously leaning into his embrace. It comforts him, loosens the edge, and he’s transformed by his presence. “You’re being nosy tonight.”

A quiet, contemplative hum, and Ezra finally gives him the attention he craves in the form of a curious grin. “ _Not_  nosy. Just… thinking.”

Finn quirks a scarred brow, licking a fang as he sets his drink aside. He reaches for Ezra, curling a finger beneath his chin and fixing his emerald gaze with burning gold. “Thinking, hm? Whatever about?”

Ezra reaches for the front of Finn’s shirt to coax him forward just a little bit more, and he wordlessly brings their lips together. Finn’s tense posture melts, and he relaxes into the kiss with fervor. He glides his tongue along the seam of the Witches mouth, swallowing his laden breath as his fingers curl in dark fabric, tight,  _tighter_.

Ezra pulls away before he finds himself getting lost, the loud crash of dropped glassware behind the bar swiftly reminding him where he is. He grips Finn’s thigh, squeezing; a signal, and the Vampire withdraws, a lopsided grin on his pretty mouth.

“We shou–”

Finn shushes him, swiping his thumb along his bottom lip. He’s still close, their noses brushing, the crisp,  _clean_  scent of him mingled with the whiskey on his cool breath invigorating. “Finish your drink.”

Ezra defiantly kisses his thumb, lips moving down to place another to his open palm, stopping at his wrist where there’s a distinct absence of a pulse. “Bossy. You’re  _bossy_  tonight.”

Finn simply smiles smugly, ignoring the pointed looks they’re getting from a pair of women that sit at the bar. “The last time I checked, you were quite fond of my bossiness, Mr Lyon.”

“ _Impossible_  Vampire,” Ezra breathes, trying not to lean in to kiss him again.

He finishes his drink in one, swift swig.


	186. A Pillar, I Am Upright (Finn x nb!Hunter NSFW)

“You look good like this.”

Finn turns his head, throwing them a look over his shoulder, still self-satisfied even when  _he’s_ the one on his knees. “I’m glad it pleases you. Try not to get too used to it.”

They laugh at that, feeling that pull, leaning forward to capture that clever mouth in a kiss.

Quick, but  _fierce_ , something that makes them dizzy, that makes them forget they’re supposed to be the one in control tonight.

Finn laughs, likely reading their mind, likely loving that he still had the upper hand, somehow.

They lull themselves from their little trance, dragging their hands down his spine, watching the subtle arch of his back when they press their thumbs into the perfect dip at the base.

He might be carved from marble, but when they press inward, push inside, Finn muffles both a ragged gasp and an appreciative whisper of their name, and with a smile, he crumbles.

They lose themselves to the power of it, the fervor spinning flames, hot, hot,  _hot_  in their abdomen. Finn moans and they press harder, go  _faster_ , digging their nails into pale skin just to watch the marks disappear.

They drink in the sound of his quiet begging, something new that soon sings like praises; a shameless cacophony of stuttered words and affirmations that,  _yes_ , this feels  _good_.

His shoulders roll back, thighs shaking as he reaches between his legs to finish what they’ve started.

The Hunter knows this moment well, has all of his cues committed to memory by now as white noise builds, humming around them. They can see it; every muscle in that powerful body wound tight like a coil, ready to  _snap_.

With a final stuttering shout, Finn fights the final thread of lapsing control within his body. They relent, determined to unmake him in a way he’ll never forget, and with a harsh inhale, Finn concedes.

His head falls forward, chin to chest, and he yells their name again. It sounds good rolling off his tongue like that, coaxed by the insistent drag of their hips, dripping in defeat.

They lean in, needing, wanting to be close, to drown in the feeling of power for as long as he’ll allow it. They press their lips to his ear, grabbing a fistful of raven hair and smiling at the way he bares his fangs. “Good boy.”


	187. Fuel the Pyre (Piper x M!Hunter)

This corrupted Vampire is going to wish he’d never risen from his grave, that he’d never dared to try and sink his teeth into Piper Meriman’s flesh.

She’s beautiful when she’s in the thick of it; a practised and fluid grace mingled with the kind of heavy adrenaline that only their kind could ever begin to fathom.

He understands, feels it too.

He circles them as they fight, watching,  _feeling_ the perpetual thump, thump, stuttering  _thump_  of Piper’s rabbit heart.

She’s bleeding, bruised, but she still smiles.

With a velocity that could be described as  _subhuman_ , her fist connects with the Vampire’s eye, producing the smacking, terrible sound upon impact of bone breaking skin.

She’s his, as he is hers, and the Hunter pulls her close when she wins.

The quick way that her chest rises and falls when she looks up at him with striking sapphire has him weak, and he tips his head, taking stock of her barely-there injuries.

He carefully scrapes drying blood off her chin, inspecting the coagulation upon his fingertips. “He got a few too many swings in,” he says, loving the dark flash in her eyes.

“Yeah, well I’m here and he’s not. Also, the bastard  _bit_  me,” she snarls, ruby lips curled back, pointing at two superficial scratches upon her neck. “I can’t say I care for that shit at all.”

He laughs, a raspy chuckle, because the way she’s seamed so close has his mind reeling, his thoughts drifting. His adrenaline should be tapering off by now, hers too, and yet he feels a spike in his blood pressure when Piper presses her lips to the edge of his jaw.

His body sings for her, and he practically becomes one with the bark when he sinks against the hefty trunk, her palms laid flat upon his chest.

He’d let her fell him, build a pyre out of his bones to burn her enemies upon.

“Tell me,” Piper purrs, taking his hands and pinning them behind his back, tutting when he arches forward to seek friction. “Tell me what you want to do now.”

He smiles, and prays she can read his mind.


	188. Nights As Dark As My Baby (Finn x F!Hunter)

Winter is her favourite, especially in Lunaris, because shorter days and longer nights mean more time with  _him_.

She waits for Finn when the sky begins to shift. Orange, purple, and her smile brightens when the cosmos lights up, stretched out endlessly above her when it finally settles upon black.

Her lover moves in the shadows, and before she registers his presence, she finds strong arms winding around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest.

Cold lips press against the column of her throat, and he breathes her in, the thrill of it still maddening. “A nice night to spend inside, I would say. Wouldn’t you?”

She smiles, leaning back, sinking against that broad body, at home in his arms. “What do you have in mind?”

He hums, but it leaves his lips as a purr, a promise. “Anything you want.”

She turns, finally seeing his face, still caught by how beautiful he is. He seems more powerful under the low-hanging moon, the way it illuminates his porcelain skin giving him an otherworldly quality.

He’s all sharp edges and bright eyes, and he’s all  _hers_. “But it’s such a beautiful evening.”

She’s playing with him, because all she can truly think about is heading inside and wasting her time in his bed. A predictable creature, that much they have in common.

A smile, wickedly suggestive. “The night is as dark as my baby, half as beautiful too.”

She yearns to scold him for his poetry, but he distracts her with a kiss, one that snuffs any thoughts of further teasing. A kiss that has her clutching the front his his shirt, getting lost in the way he feels,  _tastes_ , smells; a sensory overload.

Forehead to forehead, and she gasps for a steady breath when they part. “Tell me you want to watch the stars,” he purrs.

She laughs pushing her hands into his hair, scratching his scalp. “Take me home.”


	189. Think Twice (August x F!Hunter)

August had never fathomed that a crush could give them nightmares, and, somehow, they’re aware that she feels the same.

It’s a mutual pining. The kind where you catch each other absentmindedly gazing from across the room. Twin hearts sinking to their knees at the sight of one another, but both too foolish to act on it.

It’s like being thrown to the ground during battle; a jarring rattling of bones right when you think you can save yourself from kissing the dirt.

This morning is no different, their pulse spiking when there’s a knock at the door, her face peeking around the frame. “General.”

August clears their throat, trying to remain composed as they focus upon the report they hold in-hand, and  _not_  her confident stride as she approaches. “Good morning.”

She smiles when she takes a seat, her cheeks and the tip of her nose a charming pink, kissed by the cold. She’s smart, funny, capable, and August is an  _idiot_.

The quiet violence of being enthralled is not lost upon them when they catch themselves staring, not talking, not doing much of anything.

“You wanted to see me?”

The report is set aside, and they run through all the things they long to say in their mind, watching as she waits expectantly.

_From the minute that I saw you, I started thinking twice._

They clear their throat, leaning forward. “I… yes. I’d like you to take up an extra patrol area this evening,” they say,  _lying_ , scrambling for an excuse to have her here.

Her smile is clipped. “Of course. Anything you need.”

A tragedy; one you never see coming until it’s too late.

“Also… a drink.”

Her pretty eyes widen, and she cocks her head in question. “I’m sorry?”

They clear their throat, pushing aside the messy pile of papers that sit in front of them. “I want to buy you a drink. Tonight… if you like?”

Not a pause, not a frown, but the most beautiful smile; one that lights up the room brighter than any magic.

“I’d like. I’d like very much.”

 _Oh_.


	190. When You Move, I'm Moved (August x M!Hunter)

At the sound of the Hunter’s controlled breathing, August’s eyes flutter shut. He’s close, close enough that the gentle drag of his nose along their jaw is enough to have them going lax in their oversized, overpriced office chair. **  
**

He’s a terrible distraction, a master at it, and August continues to break every rule in a book that doesn’t even exist outside of their strong moral code.

 _Previously_  strong moral code.

Long fingers reach upwards to card through his hair when he withdraws, and August tips their chin, letting themselves look at him in the fading moonlight that bursts through drapeless windows. “Your smug is showing.”

The Hunter scoffs in that obnoxious way that only he could make seem charming, tightening his grip on the arms of the chair, the leather creaking under the pressure. “I’m nothing if not humble,  _General_.”

August snorts at that, an uncouth noise, and they plant a palm against his chest, pushing him away so that they can stand. He’s insufferable, refusing to move even a half an inch as they brush past him, and they’d be lying if they said it didn’t send a chill rolling down their spine when his hand drags across their waist.

They fix their hair, smoothing out the silvering strands, tightening the tie that holds it in place. Shirt next, crumpled in a way that shows greedy hands have tugged at it’s buttons, done them up out of sequence, and they brush their hands over the soft fabric. “ _Humble_. Not a word I would use to describe you.”

Arms suddenly wind around their waist, a chin resting upon their shoulder, and the room lights up in a barely disguised display of August’s weakness;  _him_ , and everything about him.

August turns to face him, their cheeks pink with frustration, and their magic betrays them once again when he smiles. Bright, brighter than any moon or cosmos. “There’s no one else here but us, August. Come back to me.”

Then, the faint tickle of soft lips seeking their pulse, and they inhale a quick, sharp breath that they fail to stifle. The Hunter notices, sinking lower, lazily sucking along the tensed column of their throat. Heat continues to pump to the surface of their skin, and August whispers his name like a curse, condemning him for coaxing such a reaction from them time and time again.

“You cannot help yourself, can you?” They whisper, sinking into his embrace, all hope of trying to stay strong withering and dying, turning to ash upon their tongue.

Their legs wind around his waist when he hooks his arms beneath their thighs, hitching them high with a fluid and practiced grace, and his lips don’t dare to leave their skin until he deposits them on top of their desk. “When you move, I’m moved.”

A hand against his chest again, always pushing him away, and they relish in his frustration, so handsome when he’s cross. Then, a hard pull when they’ve finished drinking in the sight of him, their fingers roughly fisting the front of his shirt as payback for the mess he’d made of their own, and their lips meet in a crushing kiss.


	191. Thrilled By The Still (Finn x M!Hunter NSFW)

Each time the Hunter finds himself pinned against a hard surface under the press of Finn’s broad palm, he contemplates his mortality. 

Tonight he looks down into warm, golden eyes, feeling a strange surge of power at the sight of a Vampire like Finn on his knees, almost supplicant before him. Though, the  _way_  Finn looks at him tells him that’s far from the truth, that he’s always in charge, always will be.

Cold hands glide down his ribcage, Finn’s eyelids heavy, a smirk playing upon perfect lips as he watches his stomach concave beneath his reverent touch. The Hunter is unable to stop himself from shaking, his body betraying him, giving Finn the satisfaction of watching him wither under his hands.

A listless, “ _Fuck_ ,” falls from his lips when Finn lazily kisses down his happy trail, hands travelling back up, thumbs brushing over nipples that rise. The stark contrast between his overheated skin and Finn’s ice-cold is pleasure personified, and he’s half hard and straining against the dark fabric of his briefs. 

“Patience,” Finn scolds, pressing his hips back against the wall when he edges them forward in a not-so-subtle roll. “Unless you want me to drag this out?”

He groans, shaking his head, but the thought of it has his heart racing.

Deft fingers finally dip inside his waistband, and Finn curls a fist around the base of his cock, eyes low and hungrily focused on the way he hardens in his hand. The back of the Hunter’s head connects with the wall with a gentle  _thud,_ his breathing ragged, clawing from the embers of his chest. 

Finn rhythmically twists his wrist, slow,  _too slow_ , and the Hunter mutters incoherently as he wraps his lips around the wet head. His moaning is husky, reaching a shameless higher octave, something unbridled and desperate. 

“Finn,” he warns, a trembling hand pushing into his hair, pitch black strands snarling about his fingers. For Finn, that gentle warning is an invitation, and the Hunter can practically feel his smug satisfaction as he doubles his efforts. “I’m…”

He hinges on a yell, something ragged clawing it’s way up his throat, his abdomen drawn  _tight._ Everything about Finn has him on edge, and as his finish closes in, he registers the sudden loss of that talented mouth.

“Compose yourself, Hunter.” 

Then, there’s that smirk, the one he dreads. The one that tells him tonight will be long, and yet… his heart is thrilled by the still of his hand, by  _him_.  

“Please.” 

A deep chuckle, and Finn starts from the top.


	192. Kazimir's (Finn & Raven)

She’s hot on his heel as he descends into the Catacombs, a flurry of black smoke in front of him in the dull candlelight.

Smug, annoyingly so, and Raven plants her palm firmly on his chest in an attempt to stop him from advancing the second she materialises. “Come  _on_. Stop being such a spoilsport.”

Finn growls, low, a rumble in his throat. She smiles at the sound, a fond look, but also a look that tells him she’s enjoying annoying him  _far_  too much.

As usual.

“Raven, I have work to do. I have…  _things_  to do! Important things. I cannot be running around town with you at a time like this.”

That pout, the one that makes his long dormant heart consider restarting. “Fine, but I feel like I don’t see you anymore. Always holed up, hunched over your papers.”

He’s old, but  _feeling_  old is something he’s never wanted, and looking at his progeny tonight is making him realise how incredibly boring he’s becoming.

Her hand falls away, and she crosses her arms over her chest in a pose that could only be labelled as defiant.

“ _One_  drink.”

Crimson eyes light up, flashing in the darkness, the colour never not unnerving to him. “It’s all I ask.”

~ ~ ~

The Wolf is full to the brim, overflowing with red faced patrons who stink of cheap wine and other unsavoury things.

He slides into the booth, their favourite, and Raven schmoozes with a miserable looking Edna at the bar. Her cheerful demeanour truly does know no bounds, and he reminds himself that he could take a few pointers from her.

He catches the bottle of overpriced whiskey that she slides across the uneven wood, a singular brow climbing to his hairline as she sets down two  _definitely-not-real_  crystal tumblers with a grin. “You said one, you didn’t specify if that was one glass or one bottle,  _fratele meu._ ”

Finn can’t suppress his smile as he uncorks the bottle, pouring them both a generous helping of the rich amber liquid. “You know, I remember teaching you to drink this.”

Raven snatches her glass, sniffing its contents before she takes a sip. Her nose crinkles, and she nods. “How could I forget. You were rather persistent.  _Bossy_ , even, as you always are.”

He chuckles, kicking her under the table and basking in her toothy grin. “It was unpleasant having you expel the contents of your stomach onto my boots, but we got there in the end.”

Raven grimaces at the memory, but her smile lingers. “And now I can drink with my girlfriend and feel normal for a moment. Drink with  _you_  and feel normal.”

He raises his glass, and she joins him, the loud  _clink_  as they meet making her snort. “What is normal, anyway?” Finn says, running his tongue over the point of his fang.

“Certainly not whatever we are,” Raven winks, sinking back in her chair in that annoyingly relaxed way she seems to be mastering lately.

She fits in anywhere, strangely.

Comfortable in her own skin; a presence that lights up most rooms despite her desire to keep any colours that aren’t black off of her person.

He’s proud, impossibly so. Proud that she handles everything with such grace, centuries younger than him but truly making him look like an amateur as she navigates her second life as a member of the walking dead.

A life stolen, but another given.

“I’ll drink to that.”

“Bloody right you will.”


End file.
